Big Trouble in Little Wutai
by Mengde
Summary: Post Schism, Reno, Yuffie, and Rude choose to vacation in Wutai, ending up with gang wars, arranged marriage, and lethal isolationism on their plates. Reno will have to make a stand... or surrender Yuffie, and his few ideals, permanently.
1. Chapter I

**Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII, nor do I hold ownership of any of its related intellectual properties. If I did, I would be filthy stinking rich and wouldn't be writing this disclaimer.**

Greetings and salutations, hypocrites lecteurs, mes sembables, mes frères! (Modified reference to T.S. Elliot there for you. He didn't write anything about ses soeurs, so I beg pardon of my readers who are of the more female persuasion.) My moniker, astonishingly enough, is Mengde, and I have a few words for all of you.

First, this is a spinoff of my recently finished work, Schism. You may have seen it floating around; it's got 30 chapters, 111k words including my author notes and such, etc. It was a crossover of the Final Fantasy VII and Final Fantasy X worlds. Many people read it, liked it, and I got the general impression that some people were sad that it was over. (If you want to go read it, be my guest.)

That said, you don't need to know _anything_ about Schism to read this. While I do like a good spinoff here and there, the best ones, in my eye, are always the ones where you can read through it without ever having read the original story it's based on and appreciate it as a stand-alone work. I may make references to events in Schism here and there, maybe a self-referential joke (one of my few pleasures in life), but beyond that this is just another story.

Turning to the matter of the rating, it's T because our heroes have a sad tendency to curse. I make it a policy to not drop the dreaded "f-bomb" because some people find it disturbing on amazingly higher levels of magnitude than the occasional "shit" and so on. Also, I myself have a sad tendency of liking the occasional fight scene, and I'd rather not say something's K+ when there's brutal murders and such. (Not giving away any plot here at all, nosiree…)

On updates: I update as close to midnight US West Coast time as I can, give half an hour to an hour depending upon extenuating circumstances. (I never update before midnight my time, that's why there's no "take" involved.) When do I do this? For Schism, it was Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday. I'm dropping the Saturday for this story, I think, just because I'm busier now than I was then (sort of). I make no absolute promises, readers, but I will try to adhere to this schedule.

One last thing: if you've read Schism and didn't know that this was coming, go reread Chapter XXX's author note. _Very carefully_.

Now, without further ado, I give you Big Trouble in Little Wutai. (A cookie to anyone who gets the reference.)

* * *

It was a dark and stormy night. 

However, it was only a dark and stormy night for the residents of Edge City. Cloud Strife's response to the weather was to shut all the windows in the bar before seeing Marlene and Denzel to bed, then joining Tifa in his room.

On the other side of the world – namely the western continent – it was mid-afternoon and sunny. A jet black, sleek convertible roared north along the highway, heading for Wutai.

Reno was driving. The young Turk's long, red hair flew about wildly in the wind. His eternally ruffled suit had been discarded in favor of a white tee-shirt and jeans – he _was_ supposed to be on leave, after all, though he kept his goggles on his forehead out of habit. On the wheel was his left hand, making sure the car didn't go off of the road.

His right hand was on top of Yuffie Kisaragi's left, trying to give her some steadying assurance – her motion sickness, after a brief period of absence, was back in full force. She was seated next to him, doggedly staring straight ahead and trying not to look to either side too much. The ninja-girl wore her black top, tan shorts, and knee-high laced boots, as had become her fancy.

Stretched out in the back seat was Rude, dressed in his suit and wearing his sunglasses. He was napping, or at least trying to, and an umbrella had been fixed against the back of the seat with a safety belt and opened to give him some shade. It was a light sky blue, and Rude had picked it out in Costa De Sol because it was "a nice color."

The two Turks had been on leave for about a week now, having decided to vacation in Wutai for a time after Rude had expressed his particular brand of dissatisfaction with Costa De Sol and its beaches. They'd loaded the car onto a commercial cruiser and crossed to the western continent, then set out for Wutai.

Now they'd been driving for three hours, and Wutai seemed no closer.

"Are we there yet?"

Reno gritted his teeth and replied, "No, Yuffie, we're not there yet."

Risking a glance at Reno, Yuffie noticed his bunched jaw muscles. "What's wrong?"

"You asked that five minutes ago."

"Yeah, so?"

"And again five minutes before that."

A contemplative expression came over Yuffie's features, then she perked up and exclaimed, "You just want me to ask you that more often, don't you?"

"No, sugar, I really don't. As a matter of fact, I just want you _not_ to ask that."

Rude remained silent.

Yuffie grinned at Reno, ignoring her stomach's protestations, and moved a bit closer to him along the bench seat. "Come on, you know you want me to."

"No, I really _don't_."

Inching closer, her grin widening, Yuffie finally brought her lips up to Reno's ear. He felt her breath and tried not to twist his head around to look at her.

"Reno," Yuffie whispered. "Are we there yet?"

Reno opened his mouth to snap something, then gave in to Yuffie's infectious good spirits and started to laugh in spite of himself. She fell back into her seat, giggling as well, and tried to look innocent when he turned to stare accusingly at her.

"You're going to make me run us off the road, you know," he finally got out between breaths.

"It'd be more exciting than this."

"True, true. We'll just have to find a way to make this trip bearable, then, eh?" His grin widening, Reno began to walk his right hand along the seat towards Yuffie, moving all of his fingers in an overtly spiderlike pattern. She gave a mock squeal and pretended to curl up into a ball, batting playfully at his hand.

"Eyes on the road," Rude finally said.

Reno started and glanced at his partner, who until now looked as though he'd been sleeping. _Hell, he _still _looks like he's sleeping_. "When did you wake up?"

"I didn't. Can't sleep."

Her spirits revived from the drudgery of the past three hours, Yuffie flipped herself around and leaned over the back of the front seat to bring her face nose-to-nose with Rude's. "It's these _sunglasses_ that're the problem!" She poised a hand above Rude's head, fingers bent, looking ready to snatch the article right off of his face.

"Hold up," Reno said aloud, his tone quickly becoming serious. "There's a roadblock ahead."

It wasn't so much of a roadblock as a crude, makeshift fence thrown up across the highway, but it was in the way nonetheless. He braked slowly, not wanting to throw Rude off of his seat.

The car came to a halt two meters or so from the fence, and Reno saw a sign tacked to one end. It had something scrawled messily on it in black ink.

_Foreigners turn around. Wutai is off-limits to you_.

"What the hell is this?" Reno asked nobody in particular. "People in Wutai didn't have any bone to pick with 'foreigners' the last time I was there!"

"That was two-odd years ago, remember?" Yuffie reminded him. "Maybe Dad's up to his old tricks or something. He seemed pretty well-behaved when I left a few weeks ago, though…"

With a growl, Reno gave an indignant gesture. "Whatever. We're not going to let some isolationist prick ruin our vacation. Partner, need some reconstruction here."

Yuffie raised an eyebrow. "Reconstruction?"

"Rude specializes in it. He takes an intact thing and creatively reinterprets it into bits and pieces."

Rude fumbled in his pocket for a moment, then pulled out what looked like a miniature grenade. He pulled the pin and tossed without looking.

Two seconds later, the fence was burnt rubble, and the road had a new scorch mark on it.

Revving the engine, Reno sent the car shooting through what used to be a makeshift roadblock. He gave a contented sigh and leaned back in his seat. "Always nice of you to carry live ordnance around, partner."

"Anytime."

They passed another sign that told them they had thirty miles to go until they reached Wutai, which was good to know. His grin returning, Reno turned back to Yuffie. "Now, where were we?"

Yuffie's grin also returned, then faded when she looked at the road ahead. "We've got company."

"What?"

The ninja-girl pulled a pair of binoculars and peered through them. Reno spent a moment wondering where she could possibly secret binoculars on her person, then decided to stop exploring the matter, as it was leading him down a rather provocative line of thought. "What d'you see, Yuffie?"

"Six, seven bikers heading for us. They all look like they're from Wutai."

"Think they're friendly?"

"They've all got guns and swords."

"Never mind, then. Lemme see."

Yuffie handed Reno the binoculars and he regarded the opposition through them. He counted seven bikers, all on what looked like pretty generic motorcycles with no armor, weapons, or special modifications. Comparing them to a work of art like Cloud's Fenrir was akin to comparing a pistol and a N17B full-auto assault rifle – Rude's "persuasive" weapon of choice.

_Just a bunch of punks looking for a scrap_.

Handing the binoculars back to Yuffie, Reno checked the speedometer of the car and put his foot down on the gas a tad harder, pushing two hundred kilometers an hour. Up ahead, he could see the bikers come to a stop and skid their bikes around, then start their engines up again. As Reno shot between them they continued to accelerate, quickly pulling even with the car.

The biggest one, who was riding a bike that looked slightly less stock than his mates', pulled up alongside the car, bringing himself to within a meter of Reno. "HEY!" he shouted. "TURN AROUND AND GO BACK TO WHERE YOU CAME FROM! WUTAI DOESN'T NEED ANY FOREIGNER TRASH COMING IN RIGHT NOW!"

Reno immediately wanted to acquaint the rider's face with his riot prod, but it was in the trunk. All he had up his sleeve was his holdout Derringer, and it was only good for a single shot, after which he'd need to go through the process of reloading the archaic pistol. _Which I can't do without more ammo, and even if I had more ammo I couldn't do it while driving_.

So he did the only sensible thing: he bodily slammed the car into the man's bike and sent him flying.

"HAPPY LANDINGS!" Reno shouted.

In the rear-view mirror, he saw the other bikers reach for their weapons. Yuffie, who had turned around in her seat to watch them, immediately ducked down, and Rude, who hadn't stirred yet, continued to stay as he was.

Reno popped the trunk open. The lid flew up behind him, obscuring his view in the mirror, but it also took the first salvo of bullets the bikers tried without complaint. The car was Tseng's, and the man only invested in bulletproof vehicles.

"Are you _crazy_?" Yuffie shouted over the sound of bullets pinging off of bulletproof armor. "All of our stuff's in the back!"

"You got a better idea for stopping that barrage, sugar, now's the time!"

He heard one of the bikers rev his bike's engine and accelerate, pulling alongside. Reno expected to see the man carrying a gun, but he instead wielded a large, wicked-looking blade that he swung wildly at Reno's head. The Turk ducked and saw the blade crash into the bulletproof-glass windshield, rebounding.

Before the biker could get off a second swing, Rude closed up his umbrella, freed it from the seatbelt, and jabbed its pointed tip against the man's forehead. He and his bike went shooting off of the road.

"Hang on," Reno said. "Please keep all hands and feet inside the vehicle until it comes to a full and abrupt stop."

Yuffie stared at him as though he'd grown an extra head, then gave an involuntary yelp when she realized what he was going to do. She wedged herself into the front seat as well as possible, and Rude folded himself into a crouching position between the front seat and back, umbrella at the ready.

His grin returning, the redheaded Turk hauled the front end of the car sharply to the left and hit the brakes, hard. Tseng's convertible seesawed and drifted until it presented its entire side profile to the oncoming bikers, then came to a dead stop. Reno got down low, beneath the level of the open roof, and as an afterthought hit the parking brake.

The five remaining bikers had no way to stop in time. All of them slammed full-tilt into the car and were thrown from their bikes, which themselves flew in all directions after rebounding off of the double-armored side of the car. The car itself was thrown up off of its left-side wheels and teetered for a second in midair until Reno and Rude threw themselves against the movement and brought the car slamming back down.

It was deathly quiet in the aftermath. Reno poked his head up, surveyed the area, and got back into the driver's seat. "Well, that's that. The world has one less gang of punks to deal with."

Rude also got up, but he looked at the left side of the car. "Tseng will skin you alive," he observed dispassionately. "The finish is completely shot and the fiberglass needs replacement all along my door."

"We got rear-ended," Reno replied. "Not our fault."

"Rear-ended by what? A semi?"

"A semi driven by a man so drunk he thought his name was Princess and that he was four years old."

Yuffie, who had just emerged from between the dashboard and the front seat, giggled slightly. "Wow. I can't believe that just happened."

Reno jerked a thumb at the road in front of them. "Believe it. We're going to have to drag them out of the road if we don't want to run them over."

Twenty minutes passed, and they were on their way again. They moved over a rise and Wutai was spread out before them, glistening in the late afternoon sun. Reno whistled; the city was many times larger than what he'd seen two years ago, almost the size of old Midgar. "It's amazing how much the place has grown."

"Yup!" Yuffie exclaimed cheerfully. "We've made a full recovery from the war, and then some. "Ever since Meteor, tourists have been a little thin, so we turned our attention inwards and rebuilt our economy. Things really are looking up."

Reno let his foot off of the gas and coasted down the long downwards incline to the city gates, which were manned by several local police officers. As the car idled to a stop in front of the gates, one of them detached himself from the guard post and walked up to the driver's side.

"Afternoon, officer," Reno said, flashing him an insouciant grin. "Nice weather, eh?"

"Beautiful," the man replied, his tone of voice suggesting that he would rather be sitting in a bar drowning his worries in a Morning Sunrise – an ironic name for a drink that put you down faster than Tseng on a bad day. "Purpose of your visit? And I need to see IDs."

Reno fished into his pocket and flashed his ID at the officer. Rude, who was again stretched out in the back, covered in the shade of his umbrella, retrieved his wallet from his breast pocket, opened it, and waved it about a bit. Yuffie pulled a card out of her left boot – _fancy that_, Reno thought – and also showed it.

At the sight of Yuffie's ID, the officer stiffened up and saluted. "Lady Kisaragi, welcome back."

For a moment, Reno stared uncomprehendingly at the officer, then turned and stared at Yuffie in the same fashion. "_Lady_ Kisaragi?"

"Dad _is_ the leader of the city," Yuffie replied, looking embarrassed. "Guess that means everyone has to be polite to me." Turning her attention to the officer, she said, "They're with me. Let us in, 'kay?"

"Immediately, milady."

Reno felt his grin begin to widen. "Oh, this is great."

"What?"

"I sense the best vacation ever coming up. Forget that gang of punks that trashed the car; we have what amounts to free rooms and free food! You're the daughter of the all-powerful Godo, right? I never even thought about the advantages of that!"

The city gate opened, an Yuffie gave him a light smack on the arm. "Dad's not 'all-powerful' or anything, and I don't get free stuff just because I'm his daughter. If I did, I'd be spoiled and awful and you wouldn't like me at all."

"You'd be more like me, in other words," Reno laughed, which earned him another smack. He drove in, noting that as the city had grown the roads had also been paved. _Nice_. "Where should we park?"

"We'll stay at my place, but we should visit Dad first. Drive to the pagoda; they'll let us in."

They moved down the main street of the town relatively quickly, and Reno managed to avoid hitting anyone, surprisingly enough. The pagoda loomed ahead of them in the distance, and they pulled up into a newly established lot in front of it. To the right was Godo's house, and to the left was the ancient shrine to Leviathan, which now held the materia for the great beast.

"Should we leave our stuff here?" Reno asked. "Not sure I like the idea of leaving everything in an open-top car."

"Well, at least nobody will want to _steal_ the car now," Yuffie observed. "It's a wreck."

One of Reno's eyes twitched. "It's _scratched_. You make it sound like it was smashed to pieces."

"_You_ make it sound like you didn't destroy five bikes with it."

"Technicality! And it was six, I broadsided that one guy who told us to turn around."

They stopped sniping at one another long enough to see that Rude had pulled up the roof, locked the car, shouldered his umbrella, and started walking towards the pagoda.

"Hey, partner! Wait up!" The redhead and the ninja-girl started after the bald Turk, running to catch up.

As the three of them walked up to the entrance of the pagoda, Yuffie instinctively took Reno's hand. He grinned roguishly at her, released her hand, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, the fingers of his right hand splayed out on her right upper arm. "Don't worry, sugar. I'm sure your dad'll like me."

Yuffie smiled at Reno nervously. "It's not that. Wutai just seems so different, even though I've only been gone for a few weeks. Something's not right."

"How d'you mean, not right? This just some feeling you got, Yuffie?"

"The atmosphere's different. When I left everything seemed happy, but now… the town seems subdued. I don't know what to think of it."

"Like I said, don't worry. Maybe being home for the first time in so long is just getting to you."

Yuffie's smile broadened. "Thanks, Reno."

His own grin increasing, Reno affected a cavalier air and brushed an erstwhile strand of hair out of his face. "Not at all. Reno is always available to help a damsel in distress." With a sudden movement, he picked Yuffie's legs up out from under her, his right arm still supporting her by her shoulders. "Shall we kiss, milady?"

The ninja-girl pretended to think about it for a second or two, lips pursed, hand on her chin, then grinned and beckoned him forward.

It took Reno quite a while, by his standards, to realize that Rude was tapping his foot and clearing his throat. The redhead disengaged from Yuffie, thrills still going up and down his body, and looked up into the stern face of Lord Godo, leader of Wutai.

And he dropped Yuffie in surprise.

To be fair, half of her landed on his feet, but the other half of her still smacked into hard dirt. She gave a short yell, more of surprise than pain, and clambered back to her feet. "You _dropped_ me!"

"Yuffie, turn around," Reno said, staring petrified at the craggy features his sometime-girlfriend's, sometime-lover's father. _She thinks I just dropped her because. Oh, hell_.

"Like I'm going to fall for that one," she huffed. "Honestly, who'd actually have some giant ugly moron standing _right behind them_ and not notice?"

Rude coughed into his glove.

When Yuffie whirled to lay into _him_, she accidentally bumped into her father's barrel chest. She stumbled a step backwards into Reno, who stood his ground and plastered on a grin.

"So good to meet you, Mr. Godo," he said. "Yuffie's told me you're in politics."

The man gave a short, dark _hmm_ before replying. "If that's all she's told you, I could educate you further."

"No need, really."

With a shrug, Godo motioned for them to follow him. "Come inside, Yuffie, and bring your luggage with you."

Reno's grin dripped off of his face like water on aluminum foil, but fortunately enough Godo had turned around by the time the redhead collected his wits enough to give the old man the one-finger salute. Yuffie, for her part, did her best to look innocent, taking a particular interest in a freckle on her forearm.

After a short while, they'd ascended the pagoda after Godo and followed him to the top story, which appeared to have recently been expanded, as there were a new set of sliding doors at what used to be the rear of the room. Godo seated himself in front of the doors, motioning for Reno, Rude, and Yuffie to do the same.

"It has been a while, Yuffie," he finally spoke. "I trust you did not do anything too… _dangerous_."

Reno eyed Yuffie, wondering if she was going to mention nearly getting raped by a Jenova simulacrum, having her emotions dissected and set out on a platter for study, or almost being crushed into a fine paste by an enraged, half-insane Sephiroth with a new body.

"Naw, it was fun," she replied brightly.

"I do hope you enjoyed yourself. As for you two," and Godo turned his formidable gaze on Reno and Rude, "I owe you thanks for having looked after her."

"No problem," Reno replied truthfully – a rarity, that. "My pleasure, really."

"And I also owe you an apology, Mr. Reno."

"You don't need to apologize for ambushing me outside like that, really."

One of the corners of Godo's mouth twitched. "I'm afraid that this concerns Yuffie and is not so trivial a matter."

Eyes widening, Yuffie sat up straighter. "What d'you need, Dad?"

Godo drew in a deep breath and appeared to mentally center himself before continuing.

"Yuffie, I require you to marry."


	2. Chapter II

On a sort of related note to the story, I've noticed that the formula "Yuffie plus Arranged Marriage equals Shenanigans" is not exactly new around here. Worry not, readers, I have plans. Big plans. Chapter II is here.

* * *

"Well, it's been great meeting you, Mr. Godo!" Reno exclaimed so cheerily that it sounded like it hurt. "Yuffie, Rude and I will be going back to Costa Del Sol now so we can enjoy our marriage-free vacation together!"

"Sit down," Godo told the redhead. Reno sat down, shut up, and started to brood.

"What's this all about, Dad?" Yuffie demanded. "The one time you tried to arrange a marriage for me, I asked to see the groom, then beat his face in while his parents watched! You think this is going to turn out any better?"

Godo opened his mouth to reply and then stopped, scowling, when Reno started chuckling and gave Yuffie a high-five.

"If you're _done_," he growled at the young Turk, who adopted a serious expression and sat up, ramrod-straight. "Yuffie, things have radically changed in the few weeks in which you've been gone. Let me explain at length."

"Better than explaining at width," Reno cracked.

Godo ignored him and plowed onwards. "Your vehicle looked to me to have suffered damage. That is unsurprising; Wutai has been becoming decidedly isolationist within the past two years, and things took an abrupt turn for the worse while you were away. What's more, biker gangs have been springing up all over town. There are at least nine of them at this point. Additionally, they're all receiving arms and materiel from an unknown source, which is apparently bent on disrupting Wutai as best it can.

"This, coupled with the fact that however much we've become independent we're still almost fifty percent reliant on tourism, means that the economy is in serious danger. People will soon start to contemplate leaving Wutai for one of the other settlements in the world if this continues, and nobody will want to come and visit. The existence of a source influential enough to procure weapons such as assault rifles and explosive ordnance for biker gangs also troubles me greatly – we have a terrible enemy on our hands, it seems."

"And I suppose the police are sitting around sipping tea with their thumbs up their butts," Reno drawled.

"The police aren't trained to handle this sort of situation, nor are they widespread enough. We need a force that is capable of going toe-to-toe with these bike gangs, and foreign mercenaries are not an option because of the increasingly isolationist sentiment here, to say nothing of their prohibitive prices. If I asked you to beg assistance of your friend Cloud, even, the people would unite behind the biker gangs against his 'foreign oppression.' There are deep hatreds that scar us all from the war. Therefore, we need a force led by someone the people are comfortable with."

"And I'm going to be the price you pay this guy?" Yuffie snarled. "Dad, you've sunk real low."

Godo slammed his closed fist against the floor. The noise was loud and sharp, making the trio start in surprise. "My motives are my own, Yuffie, and you'll not question them. I do not like this, but it is my only option at this point."

"Telling her not to question questionable motives is like telling a Turk not to poke his nose into a file marked 'Top Secret,'" Reno growled. "It's stupid and just shows how damn ignorant the guy who gave the order is."

"Or how desperate," Godo shot back. "I apologize to you, Mr. Reno, as you are obviously involved with my daughter to some degree. I have no personal enmity for you – though that may change if you continue to behave so abhorrently – but I respectfully suggest that you terminate your relationship with my daughter before it causes undue difficulty with the proceedings ahead."

"Like hell I will," the redhead spat. "I'm not going to sit on the sidelines and watch you marry Yuffie off to some stupid, conceited sunuvabitch pansy-boy who hasn't set a foot outside his flat without an armed escort in his entire life and's only 'worthy' of her because he's got a big wallet!"

Godo waved a hand, and the doors set into the wall behind him slid aside to reveal two men seated in the room.

To Godo's left was an older man, looking to be fifty or sixty to Reno's eye. He was definitely not of Wutainese descent, as he bore the aristocratic features of Midgar's upper class – upswept brows, high cheekbones, a defined jaw and a strong chin. Brown irises stood out in piercing, hawklike eyes that had seemingly been riveted into the gaunt face, so deeply they were set. The man's hair was a light brown with grey streaks shot through it, and the first thing that struck Reno about his haircut was how military it was. It was combed straight back from his forehead and, though Reno could not see this, tapered to a precise point just above his neck. _Regulation-short_. The man was also dressed in what looked like a personal version of an old uniform – a light grey jacket, festooned with buttons and one diagonal crimson slash across the chest, its shoulders sporting small, identically-colored epaulets. His pants were the same light grey, and his boots were mid-calf length black studded leather. _A real hard-ass_.

To Godo's right was a much younger man, whose age Reno would guess to be about his own. He was definitely of Wutainese descent – slightly elongated eyes, a nose bordering on the small end of the spectrum, skin that had once been pale but was now weather-beaten. His eyes were brown as well, but they were set more softly into his face, and they possessed a fiery, fiercely intelligent air. His jaw was not as strong as the older man's, but he still gave off a very masculine aura. What might have once been full lips were compressed into a thin, bloodless line, and his eyebrows drew close to one another over his nose as though frowning was his natural expression. He wore a black leather jacket thrown over a black tee-shirt, and the sunglasses he'd perched on his forehead were nearly swallowed by the unruly, dark mass of hair that sprouted from his head and fanned out in all directions. He wore old jeans that were faded from age and leather boots that were even more impressive than those worn by the man next to him. When he saw Yuffie, he grinned, and the expression changed his face from that of a dour, moody adult to an adulated boy. _He knows her from somewhere_.

"These," Godo said to Yuffie, "are your suitors." He indicated the older man to his left. "This is Sub-General Karsk. He served as Sephiroth's second-in-command during the war. However, after the war ended, Shin-Ra made him and his elite unit the garrison for Wutai and withdrew the rest of the army, effectively abandoning him. Sub-General Karsk therefore resigned his commission and instituted a mass mutiny amongst his men against the Shin-Ra, then publicly apologized for his part in the war and was ready to kill himself in shame if I had not stopped him. He has lived among us for a long time now, as have his men. In exchange for your hand in marriage, Yuffie, he is willing to reorganize his unit – all of whom have gone on to lead normal lives as citizens and to be accepted by the people – and help us combat the biker gangs."

"And you couldn't just tell him to do this _why_?" Yuffie asked.

"Because," the man spoke up from behind Godo, "Lord Godo is a man of equity, and would not demand such a heavy service from me without providing an appreciably valuable reward. I am an old man, and as such I find it difficult to enjoy any female companionship, of which I've had none in the past several decades. I am not demanding, nor do I expect anything ungracious of you, Lady Kisaragi. Please consider my offer." His voice was deep and vibrant, colored with a clipped accent that underlaid his precise mode of speech.

"As though," she snarled.

Looking unperturbed, Godo continued, indicating the younger man to his right. "You already know Makoto, Yuffie. However, what you do _not_ know is that he has recently become the head of one of the largest and most powerful biker gangs, who have dubbed themselves the Shinsengumi. Out of all the gangs, the Shinsengumi have been the most 'well-behaved,' and though they have participated in violence, it has been entirely against enemy gangs and not carried out against the populace. Additionally, they have received supplies from this mystery source as well, and they possess connections in the underground. Makoto has agreed to draft himself and his gang into government service to eliminate the other gangs for your hand in marriage."

Makoto's grin broadened. "It's like the old saying, 'It takes a thief to catch a thief.'" He spoke confidently, with a low-pitched drawl that did not rival Karsk's baritone but had its own aural flavor.

"'No honor among thieves,'" Reno quoted.

The gang leader's gaze slid from Yuffie to Reno in one swift motion. "Who the hell're you?"

Reno swaggered to his feet, something that seemed impossible to do but that he'd perfected. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm permitting myself to introduce the one and only man from the shadows – a mysterious stranger with no past, no foibles, and no mercy – the one and only, amazing, spectacular, tetra-magnificent… Yuffie's Boyfriend!"

His proclamation was met with stony silence from Godo, Karsk, and Makoto, while Yuffie squealed only half-mockingly and applauded and Rude looked like he would rather be anywhere else than sitting next to Reno.

"Charmed," Makoto finally said after Yuffie had stopped clapping. His tone vaguely reminded of glaciers scraping against one another. "And what do you have to offer Yuffie?"

"I'm a sex machine and a great kisser."

"How droll. Sit back down."

Reno grinned insolently at the gang leader and gave him a wink before collapsing back into a cross-legged position and turning to Godo. "Like I said, gramps, Yuffie's not going to marry either of these tools. So what say you let us go and enjoy the rest of our vacation?"

"I will not tolerate this any further," Godo snarled. His ears were turning red and he looked as though he was about to blow his top – or perhaps blow Reno's head off. "While I appreciate the situation this puts you in, I will not stand here and listen to your prattling."

"You're sitting," Reno interjected.

"SILENCE!" The trio all involuntarily jerked backwards from Godo's explosion. "I will give you three days, Yuffie, to decide which one of these gentlemen you would like to have as your husband. If you have not made up your mind by then, we will determine who will have your hand by the throw of a die, as is the old custom. I do not care to do this, but it is the only way to preserve Wutai." He motioned stiffly at the exit. "Now get out of here, all of you."

Reno got back to his feet and offered Yuffie a hand up, which she took. "Right. So long, gramps. I hope you're happy with what you're doing to your daughter." Instinctively wrapping his arm around her, Reno guided Yuffie out of the room. She followed his lead, casting one last glance over her shoulder at her father before disappearing.

Silently, Rude got up and walked towards the door. He paused as he reached the exit, looked back over his shoulder just as she had, and said, "Very sad."

And he was gone.

* * *

"We're leaving," Reno said the moment all of them were out of the pagoda. "Partner, you got enough ordnance on you to construct us a hole if we're interfered with?"

Rude gave him a look. "Is the sky blue?"

"I'd say so. Yuffie, let's go."

Abruptly, Yuffie stopped walking, and Reno was pulled backwards as the arm he had around her shoulders refused to move with the rest of him. "What's the matter?"

For a long, tense while, Yuffie stared down at her boots, obviously thinking. Reno could see that she was chewing the inside of her right cheek, something she only did when she was thinking hard.

Finally, the ninja-girl looked up at Reno. "I can't leave."

"Sure you can."

"No, Reno, I really can't. How can I leave now, after Dad's made these arrangements?"

"You get back in the car with us and let me drive back to the docks, where we get on a ship and never come back. Simple as that."

Yuffie shook her head. "No, we can't do that. If I run away now, I really _can't_ ever come back. Dad'll never let me back into Wutai because I'll have deserted it."

"You aren't telling me that you're actually going to _marry_ one of those jerks, are you?" Reno asked in disbelief. He immediately winced and voiced a brief exclamation of surprise when Yuffie gave him a conk on the head.

"Of course not, dummy! Karsk has to be forty years older than me, and Makoto… well. Screw him. I just don't want to run out on Wutai when it needs help, y'know?"

Reno straightened up and glanced at Rude, who responded with his patented _silent-and-neutral-and-coincidentally-opinionless_ look. "Well, sugar, that's real noble and all, but like they say, 'Discretion is the better part of valor.'"

"Not true. That's for when you can run and fight another day, but we can't do that here. If we run we really can't ever come back, period."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Reno heaved a put-upon sigh. "All right, all right. So we stay. How d'you figure that we're going to stabilize Wutai's relationship with the outside world, get rid of the bike gangs, and avoid your father having us killed for screwing with your marriage?"

Yuffie shrugged. "What am I, a genius? I haven't thought _that_ far ahead."

"That makes three of us."

A loud cough from Rude. "Who says I haven't thought ahead?"

Reno stared at him. "You're kiddin' me."

"If we're going head-to-head with bike gangs, we need bikes," Rude stated. His tone was almost reverential, as though he was divulging one of the great truths of the universe. "And not same lame piece of shit you pick up for fifteen hundred gil. Good bikes."

"'We' meaning…" Yuffie trailed off.

"Rude and me," Reno finished for her. "You can barely ride in a _car_, Yuffie, how d'you expect to be able to handle a bike?"

"But… well… yeah."

Reno clapped his hands together, satisfied. "So! Partner, old buddy. How do _you_ suggest we acquire these awesome bikes?"

"Haven't thought that far ahead yet."

One of Reno's eyes twitched again. "Well, no big deal." He jerked a thumb at Makoto, who was across the parking lot and getting onto a sleek, powerful bike that was done up in blue and white colors. "He's got a nice ride, and we just have to figure out where he bought it."

"I remember something," Yuffie spoke up. "About a year ago, when Cloud first opened up Strife Delivery Services, he showed up one day in Wutai."

"Yuh-huh."

"He wasn't riding the Fenrir, though – he was riding that dinky motorcycle he stole out of the Shin-Ra building."

"Let me guess. He rode in on that and rode out on the Fenrir."

"Yeah."

"So whoever made the Fenrir has to be in Wutai."

"I'd guess so."

Reno nodded and thumped his right fist into his left palm. "Alrighty then, we have a plan of action. 'Till we can figure out what the hell we're going to do about Yuffie's wedding, partner, you and I are going to get us some rides. We'll drive back to Yuffie's place, drop her off, then find wherever the Shinsengumi've based themselves and get the location of the guy who made the Fenrir out of Makoto."

"And we can't just call Cloud up and ask?" Yuffie asked.

"I want to get this Makoto guy's measure. See what kinda personality he has. What better subject to approach him on than bikes?"

Squinting at the sun that was beginning to droop beneath the horizon, Rude looked to be considering something for a second, and then he opened up his umbrella. "Sounds like a plan."

* * *

Reno parked the car outside the alleyway that had blue-and-white Shinsengumi tags all over it. He could see that the alleyway led up to a large, two-story building that looked like it used to be an office. Now, however, it served as the Shinsengumi gang's base of operations.

"Partner," Reno said. "You going to drag that umbrella _everywhere_ with you?"

Rude, who had closed and shouldered the umbrella, nodded. "There a problem?"

"It doesn't match your suit."

"It's a nice color."

The redheaded Turk gave an exaggerated shrug. "Fine! I'll just be 'that guy who's with the guy with the umbrella.' Terrific."

"Glad you like the idea."

They strolled nonchalantly up through the alleyway to the entrance to the building. Two bikers stood outside, armed with submachine pistols and broadswords slung across their backs. The broader, uglier one stepped forward when he saw the Turks. "Hold up, there. What business you got here?"

"We're here to see Makoto," Reno said. "We're friends of his prospective bride-to-be."

"The Boss hasn't mentioned nothing 'bout no prospective bride-to-be. He's just said he might be gettin' married."

Reno exchanged a glance with Rude. "We're friends of the girl he might end up marrying," he finally elected to say. "Do-you-understand-the-words-that-are-coming-out of-my-mouth?"

The biker gave Reno a sneer. "Yeah, I understand right perfectly. The Boss's got nothin' to say to you. Turn 'round and go back to where you came from."

"We can't do that," Reno told him. "You see, we need to do a little talking to the guy who's about to try to marry my girlfriend, in the interest of my girlfriend and the guy who's about to marry her. You follow?"

"What?"

"Thought so. We – my partner and I – need to procure rides of a two-wheeled sort, equipped with combustion engines in order to create high speeds, and the only way we can locate a man who produces them is to do the little talking to the guy who's about to marry my girlfriend. Still with me?"

"No!"

"Great. So if you'd just let us in, we can talk to the guy who's about to marry my girlfriend about locating the guy who produces the two-wheeled combustion-engine-equipped rides so we can help my girlfriend who may possibly be married to the aforementioned guy."

Reno almost felt sorry for the biker, but he wasn't quite _that_ soft yet. The gang member had started counting points off on his fingertips in a desperate attempt to follow Reno. Meanwhile, the two Turks breezed past him, and Reno deposited a fifty-gil bill in the hand of the other guard, who grinned and started whistling nonchalantly.

They walked inside into what amounted to an open bar, with bikers scattered all around the first floor of the building, sitting at tables, drinking, talking, polishing weapons. Nobody bothered to look at the Turks as they entered; apparently outsiders weren't too uncommon here.

Reno strode up to the bar and thumped his hand on the wooden surface. "Bartender! My partner and I are here to see Makoto!"

The bartender, a young, scruffy man who looked a year or two older than Reno, jerked a thumb at the stairs. "He's up in the garage, working on his bike."

"A garage on the second floor?"

"We got slides we deploy when we want to move out. Gives us a speed boost."

"Sounds fun."

"Be nice when you go in. Makoto likes his quiet time with his bike."

Reno stifled a snort and tossed a one-gil coin to the bartender, who caught it out of the air and gave a small nod of thanks.

He and Rude tromped up the stairs to the upper level, where there was indeed a garage, filled to the brim with bikes. All of them bore the symbol of the Shinsengumi – the character for Makoto's name – and many of them were also done up in white and blue. Makoto himself was in a far corner of the garage, working on the bike that Reno and Rude had seen him ride away from the pagoda on.

When he heard the Turks enter, he looked up, snorted, then returned his attention to his bike.

"Hey there, hot stuff!" Reno called. "Long time no see!"

"What the hell do you want? I thought I told tonight's gate guards not to let you in."

"Well, one of them was a moron of epic proportions, and the other's going to go buy himself a pretty dress with the fifty gil I gave him. So, yeah."

"I reiterate: what the hell do you want?"

_Let's mess with him a little_. Reno oozed up to one of the bikes in the room and began to run his fingers along it. "This is a very nice little building you've got here, Makoto. Very smooth little operation. Would be a _shame_ if anything were to happen to it."

Rude caught on instantly. "Damn shame," he affirmed. "We can help you with this."

Makoto looked up from his bike, his face pinched into a disapproving frown. "What are you talking about?"

"Accidents happen, you know," Reno observed idly. "Stuff like… well."

The sound of Rude kicking over a bucket of paint echoed loudly in the garage. "Whoops."

"My partner's so damn clumsy sometimes," the redhead sighed. "Apologies, apologies. Now, we could _prevent_ these _accidents_, but such an operation requires a fee."

Makoto stood straight up, eyes blazing. "You're trying to get _protection money_ out of me?"

"Call it an accident insurance policy."

"Screw you and get the hell out."

Reno laughed. "All right, all right. We were just screwing with _you_, actually. We're here for some information."

The Shinsengumi leader's eyes narrowed. "What sort of information?"

"Rude and I are in the market for bikes. _Good_ bikes, not the stupid pieces of shit most wannabe bikers are driving around. Bikes like, well, yours. We hear that the guy who made the Fenrir bike for Cloud's in Wutai; maybe you know about him?"

Nodding, Makoto replied, "I get it. You're trying to do something about the bike gangs yourselves, are you?"

"Sort of. What've you got to say about it?"

A shrug. "Nothing much. Just that you shouldn't get in my way, when the time comes. And I'll tell you where to go for _good_ bikes, that really are from the guy who made the Fenrir. That bike's a legend around here, you know." His eyes sparkled as he said the name, and though he still radiated an aura of potent dislike, it was curbed for the moment.

"Great," Reno exclaimed. "So, let's hear it!"

"Nuh-uh. I'm not an idiot. Why should I give you something for nothing when I can profit too?"

Reno crossed his arms over his chest and began to tap his foot. "All right, I'm listening."

A grin spread across Makoto's face. "Now we're getting somewhere.

"I want you to send Yuffie here, to talk… with me."


	3. Chapter III

In the interests of full disclosure, readers…

It's Chapter III.

What? You were expecting some secret maybe? "The box… says no."

* * *

Reno narrowed his eyes. "What do you want to talk to Yuffie for? I just thought you wanted to marry her."

Wiping his hands on a rag, Makoto shrugged. "What does any man want to talk to a woman for?"

"I prefer not to talk to most women. I usually end up pissing 'em off."

"Yuffie's not most women. I've been waiting for a very long time for this kind of chance, and I'm not going to let it just pass me by. So promise me that you'll get Yuffie to come here to talk with me, alone, or it's no deal and you get to find your bikes yourselves."

In his mind, Reno gauged the possibility of getting his information if he told Makoto that the gang leader could go perform various activities upon himself that involved large, sharp objects and general unpleasantness in the vicinity of the pelvis. He immediately disregarded the idea and moved on.

"I'm not so sure that it's a good idea, letting Yuffie come here by herself. How do I know nothing's going to happen to her?"

Makoto raised a hand. "I give you my word as leader of the Shinsengumi that she will not be harmed."

Reno blew a raspberry and said, "'I give you my word as the head of some punk-ass biker gang, which apparently is supposed to mean something, that I won't take advantage of your girlfriend when she's alone in my base surrounded by me and all my men.' Pass."

A growl escaped Makoto's throat and his left hand went for the sword on his back. "Watch yourself, foreigner. You're on my turf, here. Insults are not appreciated."

"Foreigner, foreigner, _foreigner_! There are bozos on the street who wouldn't sell me a bun because I'm a foreigner. Last time I checked, we all live on the same damn Planet. Doesn't that count for anything?"

"No," Makoto snarled, "we actually don't. You live on a Planet where you think it's just fine for you to go in, pillaging and raping, taking what you want and leaving the rest to rot. It's not like that any more. Wutai is strong again."

Reno took a step forward. "You insinuating something about me, asshole? I didn't give any orders in the Shin-Ra campaign against Wutai. That Sub-General Karsk guy gave plenty of 'em, I'm sure! Why don't you go and bitch to _him_?"

"Karsk publicly kowtowed to Lord Godo years back, after the war ended. I got no love for him, especially as he's trying to marry Yuffie too, but he's sincerely apologetic for what he did – and on top of that, he essentially freed us from the Shin-Ra by organizing the mutiny in the garrison."

"And so I'm expected to be sincerely apologetic for something I _didn't_ do? Why the double standard, Makoto? You think you can get away with bullying around foreigners 'cause they got no place in Wutai? I'm in love with a girl from Wutai, you pretentious sunuvabitch!"

Makoto roared and pulled the sword from his back, charging, and Reno whipped his riot prod from his sleeve, ready to take on the man.

Rude stepped between them, lightning-fast. His umbrella lashed out and caught Makoto full in the chest, then rebounded and smacked Reno across the kneecaps. The gang leader stumbled backwards from the force of the block and Reno skidded to a halt, standing on one foot and holding his left knee, which had taken most of the blow.

"Calm down," Rude rumbled. "You're getting ahead of yourself, partner. We're just here for information." He turned to Makoto. "Yuffie will talk with you. _But_. You go to her place. We'll call ahead and let her know you're coming. You give your word as leader of this gang you won't do anything to her and we're fine with that, but you can't account for your men."

Breathing hard, the adrenaline obviously draining from his system, Makoto straightened and returned the broadsword to the sheath on his back. He exhaled loudly, relaxing all his muscles as he did so, then turned to Reno.

"You agree?"

Reno shot a glance at Rude, who was looking at him over the tops of his sunglasses. _Don't screw this up, partner_.

"Yeah. Fine," Reno growled. "Since you got such a high opinion of yourself and your motley little crew, I guess your word _does_ means shit after all, even if it's only pertaining to you." He returned the riot prod to his sleeve and secured the spring there. "I'll tell Yuffie you'll drop by… when?"

"Tonight."

"Fine. Where can we find the guy who made Cloud's Fenrir?"

* * *

Yuffie's cell rang and she stirred beneath the thin blanket on her floor mat. Grumbling, she fumbled towards the sound of the phone, grabbed it, and brought it up to her ear before flipping it open.

"'Lo?"

"It's Reno, sugar."

"Hey," she slurred out, her tongue still thick. "What's up?"

"Rude and I got Makoto to tell us where we can find the guy who made Cloud's Fenrir – but in return you have to talk with him. He's heading to your place right now, so I'd suggest being decent by the time he shows."

Yuffie sat up and blinked the gumminess out of her eyes, searching for her clothes. They were obviously not what anyone would call modest, but the thin summer pajamas she was wearing were several sizes too small on all counts and she didn't want to give Makoto a show. "You couldn't have asked me about this?"

"I nearly knocked the asshole's head off and he was ready to slice me. When we reached a compromise it was take it or leave it."

With a low groan, Yuffie levered herself to her feet, stumbled about for a moment, and then pulled her phone away from her ear so she could look at the clock. It was only eleven-thirty, but the trip had been long and tiring. How Reno and Rude could function after such an exhausting day she had no idea.

"All right. I'll talk with him. He just better not be expecting some deep conversation about the meaning of life. I'm _tired_."

"So am I, Yuffie." That woke Yuffie up further; there was something about the tone of voice in which Reno made that statement that set off alarms.

"Is there anything wrong, Reno?"

There was a hesitation and then a sigh from the other end of the line. "Nothing I can't deal with, sugar. Right now I'd rather be horizontal next to you than anything else, but Rude and I got business."

"So much for our vacation," Yuffie observed wryly, beginning the process of pulling on her boots.

"I'll tell you all about it when I see you again. Be careful around that Makoto guy. I don't care if he promised no funny business."

Worry resonated in Reno's voice, and Yuffie felt a shiver go through her that had nothing to do with the cool night air or her too-small pajamas. She shook her head a little and said, "You forget who you're talking to, _sugar_? I'm the Great Ninja Yuffie, after all."

"And I'm the Great Ninja Yuffie's boyfriend who's telling her to be careful. _Be careful_."

Yuffie felt the smile she'd mustered wilt a little. _Poor thing's real upset about something._ "I will, Reno. I will."

* * *

Reno clicked his phone shut and stared off into the night, his fingers drumming unconsciously on the car door. He was in the front passenger seat while Rude drove. The umbrella was between them, propped up against the front seat.

_Go further downtown to a club called "The Jade Dragon." The maker of Cloud's Fenrir is known around here as Grandpa Souta. He likes a geisha at that club and visits her most every night for tea. Good luck getting his interest; he only makes bikes for people he likes_.

The redheaded Turk clenched his right hand into a fist at the thought of Makoto. _Thinks he's tough shit because he's in charge of some gang. And because of _that_, Godo thinks he's good enough for Yuffie._

Still, Reno was a realist. There had been fluid strength in the way Makoto had pulled his broadsword and rushed. If he'd been expecting the umbrella-smack from Rude, he probably wouldn't have given it a second thought. Reno had seen coiled muscle moving beneath the tee-shirt Makoto had on. The man was obviously not just a punk-ass gang leader.

At length, they pulled up across the street from The Jade Dragon. Its sign was a neon green dragon coiled about the name, which was spelled out in both Wutainese characters and ones that Reno could read.

"We go in and find this Grandpa Souta guy," Reno announced, getting out of the car. "Questions?"

"Think they'll let me bring my umbrella?"

Reno turned around to look at his partner. "No. I think the umbrella should stay here. To guard the car."

Rude's eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses – which he wore even on nights with new moons, though tonight's was full – and then focused on something behind Reno. Turning back around, Reno saw what Rude was looking at: a geisha had strolled out onto a second-floor balcony of The Jade Dragon, looking radiant in the light of the full moon.

She had a parasol.

"I think the umbrella's coming."

"That's a parasol, partner. Not an umbrella."

Rude stared at Reno for a long moment and then said, "Then this one's a parasol, too."

* * *

Yuffie had just seated herself in her den when she heard a bike pull up outside. Moonlight streamed in through an open window and cast a bone-white pall over the room, while she herself sat in shadow on a divan.

She saw the gang leader's silhouette approach the front door and called, "It's open."

Makoto slid aside the front door, entered, and shut it behind him. "Yuffie. A pleasure."

"Yeah, yeah. You're here, Makoto. Talk."

The young man sucked in a breath before continuing further into Yuffie's house and seating himself across from her. "I should thank you for allowing me to come."

"I didn't have the chance to say no. Reno's sweet, but… well, yeah."

Makoto leaned forward on the couch, balancing his elbows on his knees, lacing his fingers through one another, and resting his chin on his hands. "Do you remember when we first met, Yuffie?"

Her reply came by way of a stiff nod. She'd watched her mother call forth the Water God, Leviathan, to try to down the silver-haired demon leading the assault on the city. He'd blown through her like she was a wet rag and stolen the holy materia for use as leverage.

Running from the enemy army, she'd been called out to by a young, dark-haired boy of nine. He'd pulled her into a small hideout that he and his friends Sheng and Rei had constructed and told her that she was safe as long as she stayed with them.

Opening her eyes, Yuffie realized that she hadn't stirred for nearly a minute and that Makoto remained motionless, gazing at her.

"Yeah, I remember when we first met, Makoto. So?"

"I had no idea who you were then. When the Imperial Guards found you and took you away, I realized that you were Lord Godo's daughter – the Guards wouldn't bother with any other child. They never gave me the chance to say goodbye to you.

"So I've watched you over the years. I watched you run away from Lord Godo and the tourist attraction he was turning Wutai into. I watched you come back and then run away again. I never did get the chance to talk to you, but I've been watching. And I've been improving myself, making myself somebody, so we would have this chance."

Yuffie resisted the urge to frown. She didn't like where this was going. "So you've been stalking me all my life. Yeah. Great. You can go now."

"That's not what I mean, Yuffie, and you know it. The Shinsengumi, the martial prowess I've gained over the years, all of them are just tools. I wanted so badly to be able to talk to you again, but you're the heiress of all Wutai. You don't talk to just anybody. I had to be _somebody_, and now I am."

Makoto rose and began to pace about the room. "And now I can show you, and your father, that I really am worthy. I'll help beat down the other gangs and disown the Shinsengumi myself if I have to. For you."

"You're creeping me out, Makoto."

He stopped pacing abruptly and whirled to face her, his eyes burning. "Don't you understand, Yuffie? For all these years, I've wanted to be able to see you again. I watched you grow into a beautiful young woman, and I knew there'd be other men who wanted to be with you. I'll prove to them, and to you, Yuffie, that I'm the best."

Yuffie remained silent.

"And I'll do this, Yuffie, because… because…" Makoto trailed off and looked down at his boots, visibly steeling himself. "Because I love you."

There was a long, dead silence between the two of them. Yuffie finally looked at him and said, "You can go. Now."

Makoto opened his mouth to say something more, but she cut him off. "No, I don't want to hear it. You've said enough. You can go, _now_."

The tension in the air thickened and became almost palpable, and for a moment Yuffie felt an attack coming.

Then Makoto turned and stalked out, disappearing into the darkness of the night.

* * *

The Jade Dragon was dimly lit in blue and green hues, with geisha moving throughout the place and attending to the customers, who sat at various tables drinking rice wine and conversing in hushed tones. Reno scanned the room, counting eight geisha in total and knowing that their elaborate outfits had at least a dozen places in which they could conceal weaponry.

He was still on edge from his confrontation with Makoto earlier. It was affecting him more than he'd care to think about.

"Looks like a bunch of back rooms through those doors," Rude observed quietly.

Reno shook himself out of it. "Yeah. Our man's probably in one of 'em with that geisha Makoto mentioned. Let's split up and look for him. If you find him, call me; I'll do the talking. Otherwise, just amuse yourself 'till we have to go."

"Got it."

Blowing out a labored breath, Reno forged ahead into the darkness of The Jade Dragon, looking sideways at the geisha and the clientele. He picked one of the girls at random and approached her.

She looked up at him from where she was kneeling down to pour one of the clients some more saké. A moment later the man, who was talking energetically with his friend, shooed her and she shuffled backwards quickly before returning to her feet.

"Yes?"

"I'm looking for a Grandpa Souta," Reno told her. "I hear that he likes a certain geisha here and comes for tea whenever he can. D'you know him or the geisha in question?"

The girl, who looked young enough to be Reno's younger sister – if he had one – looked around furtively for a moment, then beckoned Reno to an unoccupied table in a corner of the room. He followed her with a swagger that was only half-affected; he was tired, after all.

She pulled out a chair for him and then seated herself. Reno dropped into the chair and looked at her. "You want something to drink?"

He could have sworn he saw her flush, but she was wearing makeup, so it had to be a trick of the light. "No, I'm fine. We're not allowed to drink while servicing the clientele, anyway."

One of the brighter lights flashed across their table, and in the moment of clarity Reno took the opportunity to study the girl. She was delicately formed, almost fragile; her face was elegant and her eyes a beautiful amethyst shade. Though her kimono was seemingly a size too large, the redheaded Turk could see that she was shapely. Her raven hair was pulled up into a traditional geisha hairstyle, revealing her graceful neck in its entirety and framing her red, pouting lips.

"What's your name?"

"Rei. Why do you ask?"

Reno squinted at her slightly. "If you ask me, you look a little young to be in a place like this."

She made a gesture of dismissal, and Reno noted the way she flashed a tiny glimpse of her underarm as she did so. _This girl's no amateur. Obi's tied in the back, too. This Jade Dragon place is more than it seems_. "I've been training for this my entire life, even though we had a war with the Shin-Ra. Too young and too old… they're not something I need to be concerned with."

Shifting in his seat, Reno asked, "So, then, I'm guessing you know Grandpa Souta?"

Rei looked up at him and her ruby lips curled into a shy smile. "I'm the one he comes to see."

* * *

Yuffie collapsed, shivering, back onto her floor mat. She'd kicked off her boots and done nothing else; her black top and tan shorts were hardly ideal bedclothes, but she was too rattled to bother stripping out of them.

_He's in love with me_?

For years now, she'd been feeling a sort of presence whenever she was in Wutai, as though she was being watched. The one exception was when she'd stolen all of the party's materia and then nearly gotten introduced to Little Corneo, as the Don had called it when nobody else was around. The thought of _that_ was enough to give her nausea on its own. Added to the fact that she now knew who had been watching her and why, it was giving her the chills.

_Reno…_

Yuffie was very much enamored of Reno, of that there was no doubt. They'd been through hell and back together and they'd done all manner of things pleasant and unpleasant – none of which she regretted in the least. She certainly hadn't slept with him yet, or at least not in the manner by which most people in a relationship slept with one another, but it was an inevitability if things kept going the way they were; namely, positively.

_But…_

Reno had never told her that he loved her. Whether it was reticence to say it, possibly from past negative experiences, or just that he didn't feel it was time, he'd never said the words.

_Should that bother me so much? I never expected it out of him until Makoto said it. Does Makoto even mean it in the same way Reno would?_

_Do _I _love Reno_?

The ninja-girl rolled over and unconsciously clenched her fists. She didn't have the answer to that question, or any of the other questions. What had seemed clear and easy to understand was now a labyrinthine and confounding problem, and her marriage loomed on the horizon.

* * *

Rei had pulled Reno into a back room and sat him in a corner while she laid out a kettle of tea and cups at the table. He watched her move, somewhat fascinated with her instinctive poise and grace even when there was nobody watching that gave a damn or knew how a geisha was supposed to move.

"So, this Grandpa Souta knows you?"

"He's known me since I was a child. He sponsored my training as a geisha so I could live a good life instead of as a farmer. He's an old friend of my family."

"Where's your family live?"

"They died in the war."

Reno winced. "Sorry."

"It's not your fault. Grandpa Souta has always taught me that holding someone responsible for the deeds of his race or civilization is the same thing that caused the war itself. Our isolationism will only cause us pain in the end."

There was a minute of silence as she poured tea and Reno brooded, then a knock sounded at the door. Rei did a quick check of herself to make sure she was composed and then slid open the door.

In the doorway stood a short, balding old man. He grinned toothily at Rei, then his gaze swiveled to Reno. The redheaded Turk felt as though he was being gazed upon by an old deity, so penetrating was the little bony man's brown-eyed stare.

"Who's this, Rei-_chan_? A boyfriend?"

Reno shook his head before the geisha could reply. "No. The name's Reno. I need bikes, one for myself and one for a partner of mine."

Grandpa Souta looked him over, stroking what Reno only now realized was an impressively braided goatee that hung down to the little man's waist. "Why do you want these bikes, young man?"

Reno pursed his lips for a moment, debating with himself, and then decided it couldn't hurt.

"I got… _problems_."

And he proceeded to tell Grandpa Souta and Rei all about them.


	4. Chapter IV

Not to toot my own horn, but I yawn like a cat. The similarity is striking.

In news that we care about, Chapter IV's here.

* * *

Rude had watched Reno disappear into a back room with a geisha and taken note of the arrival of the old man who proceeded immediately to that same back room. Knowing Reno could now talk to the man and negotiate with him for bikes, Rude decided to see what the place could serve up for a drink. 

He shouldered his umbrella again and started to move for the bar when two burly Wutainese men stepped up to him, seemingly from nowhere.

"'Scuse us, but we got business with ya."

Rude allowed no change in his expression to betray his surprise. He simply nodded.

The men motioned to one of the back rooms. Taking their cue, Rude stepped towards the door, making sure not to let them see anything overly suspicious about him, and opened the door. Inside, on floor cushions, surrounding a large table with saké, sat a number of what looked like bike gangsters, none of whom belonged to the Shinsengumi.

Continuing to affect an air of nonchalance as best he could, Rude plopped himself down on a free cushion. He heard one of the men step through and close the door behind him, then take up position there, while the other stood guard outside.

Looking around, Rude saw that there was but one spare cushion now – a cushion that was promptly taken by a man who emerged from even further back in The Jade Dragon. He was nondescript, bland in appearance; a perfect espionage agent. The only distinguishing feature he possessed was that he was not of Wutainese descent.

All of them, including him, had umbrellas of various colors.

"Nice of you to show up," he barked at Rude. "An' what's with the getup? The umbrella's how we knew it was you, but the suit and shades?"

Rude, contrary to all evidence that Reno would put forward at the drop of a hat, was not unable to talk on his feet. Obviously he had stumbled into some sort of underworld meeting by carrying his umbrella, which apparently served as an identifier. However, any number of people could be carrying an umbrella around, so that told Rude that the equation had to be umbrella plus The Jade Dragon equaled admittance to this rather exclusive club.

"Had to go to a funeral," Rude replied. "Didn't have time to change."

"Damn. Who died?"

The bald Turk didn't skip a beat. "Old colleague of mine by the name of Veldt. Taught me a lot." _No lie there_.

"Shame." The agent straightened up a bit on his cushion, poured himself some saké – apparently the geisha here weren't even allowed to know about this meeting – and drained his cup before continuing. "So, now that our friend from Shattered Hand's here – " and at this he indicated Rude – "we can start."

Rude didn't recognize Shattered Hand, but he filed the name away for future reference. _No doubt it's a biker gang._ None of those present were commenting on the obvious fact that Rude was a foreigner, but he saw several other foreigners seated as well, so he assumed that the rest of biker gangs were not _quite_ as picky about who they let in as the Shinsengumi were.

The agent had another long swig of saké. "The boss is pleased with your efforts so far. You've got the police running in circles trying to figure out where you're getting your weapons from and causing tons of havoc at the same time. That's excellent.

"But what the boss _wants_ is a really big event, at a time and place of his choosing. He figures that if you all haven't wasted your weapons and strength on stupid petty theft and misdemeanors, you'll have enough power left to make some major hits without much more supplementation from him."

One of the gang members slammed his fist down on the table, rattling all the cups of saké. From behind his sunglasses, Rude observed the punk. He was almost as nondescript as the espionage agent, save for the fact that he had on a sleeveless vest, which prominently displayed the large red tattoo he bore on his right arm. It was a long, sinuous snake, the color of glowing embers, and it started on his shoulder and worked its way down to his wrist, where the tattoo terminated in the snake's bared fangs.

"That's a load of bullcrap," he growled. "We Orochimaru put in a resupply request two-odd weeks ago and haven't gotten a single clip of ammo or a dagger in response. I think your boss is running out of shit to give us, and you're trying to cover that up."

Now that the point had been raised, other discontented murmurs were heard around the table. Rude made sure to keep his gaze steady and unfocused on any particular man so as not to give any impression of taking sides. He also catalogued the name Orochimaru with Shattered Hand.

With a growl, the agent planted both his hands on the table, palms flat. "Listen here. You Orochimaru haven't gotten shit because that's precisely what you did with the supplies we gave you – shit. You robbed a couple stores and roughed up a couple tourists; do you want medals or something? If you weren't actually committed to being useful, you'd be as bad as the Shinsengumi."

Rude began to listen more intently.

"Speaking of," another one of the bike gang members spoke up. This one was a foreigner, as was clearly evidenced by his reddish-brown mop of hair and dark skin. "I don't see anybody from the Shinsengumi here. Haven't seen anybody from them for a long while now, actually."

"The Shinsengumi are bidding for higher stakes," the agent spat. "The leader Makoto wants to marry Yuffie Kisaragi, Godo's daughter, and he's offered the services of himself and the Shinsengumi to the government as a dowry. They're not part of our calculations any more."

"How d'you know for sure that that's what Makoto wants?" Rude asked, taking a calculated risk.

"'Cause I heard it straight from the mouth of one of my… _friends_ in the Shinsengumi," the man replied, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Amazing what a little money'll buy you."

As the group's attention began to focus back onto the agent more, the Orochimaru representative slammed his hand onto the table again. "Hey! Don't try changing the subject, you foreign _trash_!"

All the foreign gang members at the table started violently, but it was the reaction of the espionage agent that was by far the most retaliatory. With one smooth motion he pulled a concealed pistol from his sleeve and fired into the back of the hand that the Orochimaru representative had slammed onto the tabletop.

It was a silenced pistol, so the noise was negligible, but the gangster's scream certainly wouldn't be. He dropped to his knees and opened his mouth to let the entire world know precisely what was going in the back room, and a moment later he closed it again as the agent's booted foot came up in a swift kick to the gangster's jaw, sending him flying backwards, unconscious.

Rude fought down the urge to raise an impressed eyebrow. The agent's foot had come out of a cross-legged position and risen four feet into the air to connect with its target's jaw, and the man still had his other leg crossed beneath him, his balance steady.

_Definitely a pro_.

The man folded his upraised leg back beneath him and said aloud, "Clean up the trash." Moving quickly, the guard standing at the door wrapped a strip of cloth around the gangster's hand, heaved his inert form up, and plunged deeper into the back of The Jade Dragon. Rude assumed there were auxiliary exits not visible from the main street.

Deathly silence hovered over the room in the wake of the shot, and the agent smiled briefly. "That's what the boss's response is to any complaints about resupply requests. Now, we'll talk ideas for a major blow to the city. Obviously, the Orochimaru aren't invited."

* * *

Grandpa Souta took a long, protracted sip from his cup of tea before setting it back on the table. He'd just listened to Reno's lengthy explanation for needing the bikes, and his eyes unfocused and his face took on a contemplative expression. 

The geisha Rei, who had been kneeling on her floor cushion and listening with rapt attention, seemed to shake herself back awake. "You threatened Makoto in his own compound?" she asked, her voice awed.

Reno blinked several times and looked at her. "Yeah. I was about to whoop his ass, too, if my partner hadn't stopped us. Probably just as well he did, else we wouldn't be talking right now, I bet."

Rei's ruby lips opened in a silent _oh_ for a moment before she spoke again. "You don't know Makoto. He's terrible when he's angry, and he's been training himself for years in the old arts."

Raising an eyebrow, Reno chose to give Grandpa Souta a while longer to think and took the bait. "You're telling me that you know him personally? And what about these 'old arts?'"

For a moment, her eyes flicked down to her hands, which lithely rested on her knees. "Yes. I've known him since we were children. We went through the end of the war together. When he heard that Grandpa Souta was becoming my adoptive father and financing my training as a geisha, Makoto purposefully took an interest in motorcycles so he would have an excuse to talk with him and see me. But…"

"Makoto-_kun_ never took any interest beyond friendship in Rei-_chan_," Grandpa Souta finally spoke up. "I've been telling him for years to give up his fool quest and marry her. It would make both of them happy, and it would guarantee Rei-_chan_ a good future in her old age."

"Lemme guess. This 'fool quest' of his is for Yuffie."

A nod. "You're quite astute, young man, though whether it's inspired by your protectiveness of Lady Kisaragi or if it simply comes naturally to you is up for debate. Makoto has been somewhat obsessed with her ever since he gave her shelter near the end of the war – a story you'll hear in full from one of them in to the future, no doubt." The elderly mechanic reached into a pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes, handing one to Rei and taking one for himself. "You smoke, Mr. Reno?"

"No."

Grandpa Souta returned the pack to his pocket, then pulled a lighter and lit his own cigarette and Rei's. Reno eyed the geisha as she expelled smoke through her nose with a protracted sigh; she slumped slightly, relaxing. The old mechanic showed no visible reaction to the cigarette, though Reno was sure the man didn't smoke just for the hell of it.

"Apologies, then," Grandpa Souta said. "I know it's irritating, but Rei-_chan_ and I always share a smoke."

Rei apparently felt Reno's eyes on her, because she exhaled more smoke with a short laugh. "I know what you must be thinking. Nineteen years old and I'm a fully accomplished geisha who works in an underworld nightclub and has a nicotine addiction."

"I did a lot worse at nineteen," Reno replied, letting the statement hang in the air for a moment. "Trust me on that."

"That we will," the old mechanic stated. "Call me senile, Mr. Reno, but I feel that we can trust you – to an extent, of course. You've no reason to lie about any of this, and you sound as though you're being sincere despite a history of insincerity. I haven't lived as long as I have without learning some things about humanity."

"I'm glad. That means we can skip all the crap we'd normally have to go through at this point and get down to business - after we resolve my question about these 'old arts' that Rei mentioned."

"Makoto has what you might call a fascination with power," Rei cut in. "Ever since he was little and the war took everything from him, he's wanted power to prevent that from happening again. He's studied ancient manuals, stuff nobody else would touch, to give himself physical power. The Shinsengumi's political power - pressure he can put on his enemies. Everything is about the pursuit of power for him."

Reno's eyes narrowed. "Including," he asked, "Yuffie?"

Grandpa Souta shook his head. "No. She represents a sort of ultimate goal for him, I think. Power is a means to an end, not an end unto itself. Makoto has his end, Yuffie, and his means, power. His end is what he's been building up to this entire time, and I fear what might happen if he's denied it." Another long, smoky exhalation. "But onto our previous business. What is it you need from _me_, Mr. Reno?"

Shrugging off the unsettling things he'd just heard, Reno replied, "I need two bikes, built to the specifications of myself and my partner. I need them done as soon as possible, and money's no object."

He didn't miss the glimmer in Grandpa Souta's eyes when he heard the tail end of that sentence.

"And you want these bikes from me because…?"

"Because you built Cloud his Fenrir, and we want something along those lines. Not _quite_ as elaborate, thanks, but we need to have versatility."

"Not precisely what I was asking, but I'm glad to hear that you appreciate craftsmanship." The old man gave a quick, smoke-laden cough before continuing. "You've made abundantly clear to us precisely what these problems of yours are, but you haven't told us how you'll use these bikes of yours to _solve_ said problems."

"When you get weeds in yer garden, you need a good hoe to root 'em out."

Grandpa Souta's eyes narrowed just slightly. "Wutai is not your garden, Mr. Reno."

"It's Yuffie's. And I intend to help her maintain it."

The old man had no response to that; he merely took a drag on his cigarette and exhaled, thoughtfully. Finally, he looked back up at Reno and said, "Two bikes to your personal specifications. I have connections and a good team of mechanics; it'll take me three days. That's _if_ you can pay for priority servicing."

"I work for Rufus Shin-Ra. It's not something I should advertise 'round here, I think, but he's got a big enough pocketbook."

Rei blew staccato plumes of smoke from her nostrils with a short series of giggles. "I'd imagine not, Reno. Just think of what people would do when they found out Lady Kisaragi was involved with a Shin-Ra dog!"

"That's what they'd see me as, eh?" Reno asked, taking another sip of tea.

"Of course. Not only are you a foreigner, but you work for the company that put us down and ground us into the dirt in the first place. You can't expect any Wutainese citizen that survived the war or was raised directly afterwards to have good feelings towards the Shin-Ra."

Closing his eyes for a moment, Reno worked at a crick in his neck – again. _Getting too stressed on my vacation._ "Then I'll just have to 'forget' that I work for Rufus."

* * *

Rude walked back into The Jade Dragon proper last as the rest of the gang members slowly dispersed, the meeting concluded. The brainstorm session had been mildly productive, or so the espionage agent had declared, and he wanted to see everyone – save the Orochimaru representative – back in two days. 

Checking his wristwatch, he noted the time, then hit another button on it. Immediately, the minute and hour hands sprang together and pointed at ten o'clock. Rude swiveled until the hands pointed at twelve, then looked up and saw he was facing one of the doors to a back room. He hit the button again and the watch returned to its normal mode. _Shin-Ra technology at its finest. Better than opening every door until I find him because I couldn't remember the right one._

Striding purposefully up to the door, umbrella shouldered, Rude slid it open to find Reno sitting on a floor cushion at a table with a geisha and an old man, both of whom were smoking.

"Partner," Reno drawled. He gestured first at the geisha, then at the old man. "This is Rei, and this is Grandpa Souta. He's gonna make us a couple of rides."

Rude nodded at the geisha and extended a gloved hand to the old man, who gripped it firmly and gave it a shake before releasing it and beckoning Rude inside. "Sit down, young man. Your partner and I were just finalizing the details of his bike, and I think you would like to be able to give me your specifications as well."

Nodding, Rude seated himself, closing the door behind him, and looked at Reno. "And how're we paying for this?"

Reno waved a hand. "Rufus won't miss fifty or sixty thousand gil. No worries."

"This on top of Tseng's car? You won't get a paycheck for months."

"Does it really matter? I'll just go live in a nice cardboard box somewhere." Stretching, Reno added, "But what have _you_ been up to, partner? Treating that umbrella of yours to a drink?"

"Apparently carrying an umbrella in here's a sign that you're in on a conspiracy," Rude deadpanned. "I got hustled into a back room with a bunch of bike gang representatives and got to hear discussions with some espionage agent about a 'big blow' that the gangs are going to strike the city sometime soon. We're reconvening in two days."

Reno sat straight up, and Rei and Grandpa Souta both started coughing at the same time as they choked on cigarette smoke. Rei was the first to clear her throat and gasp, "You're not serious."

Raising an eyebrow, Rude replied, "I'm always serious."

"And they actually think you're a member of… which gang, now?" Grandpa Souta asked.

"The agent seemed to think I was a member of Shattered Hand."

"That's one of the more notorious gangs. Very large, has a small population of foreigners. I wonder why they didn't send a representative to this meeting you describe."

"I think they did," Reno said softly, leaning slightly to his right to look past Rude through a slit between the door and the wall.

Faintly visible through the slit, caught for a moment in a bright beam of nearly-white light, was a pink-and-purple polkadotted umbrella.

The redheaded Turk was up and moving out before anyone could say anything. Rude twisted around to look out into the main room, and he could see Reno talking to the man – who looked very much the part of a biker – and gesturing at the back room that Rude, Rei, and Grandpa Souta were in.

"You two might want to leave," Rude said to the geisha and the old mechanic. "We don't need you getting implicated."

Grandpa Souta snorted, the sound punctuated by twin jet streams of smoke issuing from his nostrils. "You think that we might be in some danger of _implication_? Young man, Rei-_chan_ and I are known acquaintances of Makoto, and the Shinsengumi are possibly the Shattered Hand's most bitter enemies. However, I service the leadership's bikes, and they wouldn't dare raise a finger against me or my adopted daughter. You worry too much."

Rude heard footfalls moving towards the door behind him, and he stood up and out of the way. The biker walked inside, took one look around, and started to back out, but Rude grabbed him by his jacket and hauled him further into the room. Reno brought up the rear, closing the door behind him.

"What the shit is this?" the biker growled. "Get off of me, you tools, I'm late!"

"You're so late, in fact, that my partner here took your place at the meeting you were heading to," Reno told him. "Rude, hold him."

Rude, who'd been keeping hold of the biker by his jacket, moved around behind him and got his arms beneath the man's underarms, locking his flailing extremities above his shoulders. "Don't squirm too much or it'll be unpleasant."

"Who the hell are you?"

Without warning, Reno lashed out and landed a fist full-on in the biker's stomach. The man tried to double over, wheezing, but Rude kept him straight. "I'm asking the questions here, punk." Reno's grin was gone and his drawl had become a deadly serious snarl. "You work for Shattered Hand, right?"

The biker remained stubbornly silent, which earned him a cuff across the face.

"I asked you a _question_, asshole," Reno growled. "I expect an answer, or I can feed you your fingernails one by one."

He noted the ashen shade that the biker's face turned and decided to continue down this particular line of interrogation. Forcing himself to move casually, Reno strolled around the table for a minute, inspecting his own fingers, then stopped to the biker's side and grabbed his hand. "What say we start with this one?"

Slowly, Reno took hold of the man's index finger, his eyes never wavering from the ashen face and trembling eyes.

"Eeny…"

He shifted to the middle finger.

"Meeny…"

Ring finger.

"Miny…"

Pinky finger.

"MO!"

He felt the twitch go all the way up and down the man's arm, and he could see that the rest of the biker's body was also convulsing in sheer terror.

"WAIT! DON'T DO IT!"

Reno grinned and released the trembling hand. "We have an understanding. Good."

Five minutes later they'd sat the man down, given him a cigarette, and had him spill his guts about Shattered Hand, what he knew of the supplier, and his hand fetish - which was far more than they'd needed to hear.


	5. Chapter V

It's official. Yellow is the new black, and east is looking to take north's job. Very soon now our yellow compasses will be quite confused indeed.

Oh, and there's a Chapter V for you.

* * *

Reno and Rude watched the biker scurry away on his motorcycle, heading back to the base of Shattered Hand. He would report everything Rude had heard at the meeting, with the modification that the agent wanted the biker gangs to reconvene in a week, not two days.

Assuming he did this correctly, Reno would not roast the biker's fingers over a slow fire.

"Guy's pretty particular about his hands, eh?" Reno asked Rude. "Almost as particular as you are about that umbrella…"

Rude flashed Reno a _don't-go-there_ look and replied, "We should be heading back to Yuffie's, now."

"You go ahead and take the car," Reno told him. "I want to take a walk, partner."

He didn't miss the eyebrow that Rude raised. "You sure you know the way?"

"As sure as the fact that you bringing in the umbrella was probably the luckiest thing to happen to us since… well, never mind." Turning away from Tseng's car, Reno began to stroll off. "I'll see you in about an hour. It's not that far."

Rude shrugged, got into the driver's seat, stuck the umbrella on the floor of the car, and took off.

* * *

Swaggering through the back streets of Wutai, Reno attracted more than a few stares from the locals – homeless, drifters, gang members, the occasional cop who looked like he had far more on his hands than he'd ever been trained to deal with. He didn't make eye contact with any of them and kept himself slouched, hands in his pockets.

Nobody that looked at him felt like trying to approach him.

As he came up on a deserted alleyway, Reno checked his wristwatch. _Twelve-thirty. I'll be back at Yuffie's by one –_

The sound of a motorcycle and the approaching glare of a headlight jerked Reno's head up to see someone coming straight at him. He swore violently, wondering who the hell was stupid – or good – enough to drive a motorcycle through the twisting back alleys of the city.

His question was answered when the man slewed his bike violently to the right by a perfect forty-five degrees, grinding all motion to a halt a bare foot from Reno.

_Makoto_.

The leader of the Shinsengumi dismounted and stood before Reno, arms crossed over his chest. "You, of all people. There are lots of guys I'd like nothing more than to run over, but you're not worth leaving my tire tracks on."

Reno bristled, but kept control of himself. "And to what do I owe the… _pleasure_ of your company?"

"I was going to The Jade Dragon… for a drink or two."

In the dim light given off by Makoto's bike's headlight, which was pointed at the alley wall, Reno could make out that all of the man's limbs were tensed. His shoulders were bunched up close to his neck, and his hands were ground into fists.

"Looks like you're lookin' for a fight, not a drink," Reno observed quietly.

Makoto's head snapped down and to the right as though the remark stung him. His tensed shoulders trembled and the sound of his fingers grinding into his palms was faintly audible.

"Do you… do you know what I went to talk to Yuffie about tonight?"

"Nope," Reno replied with a shake of his head. "Got no idea. Maybe you went to apologize to her 'bout screwing up her vacation and then promised that you'd apologize to me too."

In retrospect, it irritated Reno that he didn't see the blow coming, but Makoto was fast. Without seeming to move his arm, he smashed the base of his stiffened right palm into Reno's mouth. The Turk reeled backwards, feeling blood oozing from his now very split lip.

"That was dirty," Reno snarled.

Makoto dropped into a fighting stance. "I went there, Reno, to tell Yuffie that I love her. I certainly didn't expect the feeling to be mutual – I expected confusion, denial, anxiety, even fear. I understand precisely what it must be like for her." Reno adopted a similar stance, leaving his prod in his sleeve where it could be drawn at a moment's notice.

"But never," Makoto growled, "did I expect her to simply, flatly tell me to leave. It was as though I'd said nothing. No reaction, no giving any reasons as to why this wasn't affecting her or why she wanted me to leave. Just an order for me to go." Venom laced his tone as he hissed the next sentence. "And it all must be _because of YOU_!"

Reno anticipated that he'd make a charge as soon as he finished speaking, and the Shinsengumi leader did not disappoint. With a cry, Makoto leapt into a flying kick with his right leg, the sole of his booted foot almost scraping against the sheer walls of the alleyway. Ducking, Reno grabbed the extremity in the same motion, twisted, and pulled. Makoto was dragged forward off of his left foot, pulled into Reno's zone.

Before the Turk could further exploit the vulnerability, however, Makoto leapt off of the ground in another flying kick, this time using Reno's hold on his right leg as a pivot for his movements. His foot slammed into the right side of Reno's head, throwing him against the left wall of the alley and breaking his grip on Makoto's right leg. The gang leader plastered his hands against the ground in the same instant, then kicked off of Reno's shoulder to bring himself fully upright, standing on his hands.

_Shit_, Reno thought. _He's not all motorcycles and bluster_.

As Reno rebounded from the alley wall, Makoto curled himself into a ball, bringing his knees up to his chin while still standing on his hands, and then hurled his entire body forward in a great spring leap. Both his feet connected solidly with Reno's chest, pitching the Turk off of his feet to a painful landing. Reno's head smacked against pavement and he saw stars for a moment before forcing himself to sit up. Makoto was already getting back on his feet, having landed on all fours after the attack.

Pushing himself to his own feet, Reno felt something twinge in his chest and he stifled the urge to curse. _Bruised ribs. Guy's got a lot of power behind his movements. Guess I can't make fun of Wutainese martial arts any more_.

Reno lurched forward, making his movements appear clumsy, and Makoto took the bait, springing in for a full-on right cross to Reno's jaw, left hand drawn back, formed into a knife edge for a follow-up blow to his throat. Taking advantage of the opening, Reno ducked beneath the right cross and introduced both his fists to Makoto's stomach. The air whooshing out of the gang leader was music to Reno's ears, but as the man stumbled backwards he brought up a foot to connect squarely with the right side of Reno's face.

A moment of black was followed immediately by Reno realizing he was lying on his side, face in a small puddle of water, and Makoto was above him, shooting through the air, ready to land heavily on him with both feet.

The redheaded Turk rolled and heard feet hit water, felt the spray of moisture against his back. Without looking he lashed out backwards with his left leg, connected hard with something that might have been a thigh, heard Makoto's strangled growl. He instinctively rolled again and narrowly avoided what would have been a kick square in the small of his back. As it was, Reno came to rest on his back and saw the booted sole swinging horizontally through the air. He delivered a hasty punch to it, which banged Makoto into the alleyway wall behind him, giving Reno time to get back on his feet and catalogue the faint ringing in his right ear.

However, the ringing was not so loud that it obscured the sound of police sirens. Both men glanced down the alleyway towards the street and saw several bike gangsters flash by. The sirens got louder, which meant the police would be in pursuit. Doubtless they were after the bikers on the road, but they might notice two men brawling in an alley – and take particular notice if one was the leader of a bike gang and the other was a foreigner who'd arrived in Wutai in the company of Lady Kisaragi.

Reno's gaze shifted back to Makoto, who stood leaning slightly against the alley wall, an arm over his stomach.

"Later," Makoto snarled. "I'll see to it that we won't have interruptions then."

Reno spat out bloody sputum and then wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Maybe it hasn't occurred to you, Makoto, but Yuffie's more than just power. I don't care what your pals Rei and Grandpa Souta say – oh, and thanks for your _very specific _directions, too – but you're marrying Yuffie for power. I know it."

The look on Makoto's face when he heard that was terrible. He pushed himself off of the wall and nearly launched into another kick, and Reno got ready to bring up a forearm to block, but at the last possible moment he relented.

"Don't presume to judge me, foreigner," Makoto hissed. "You know nothing about me."

And before Reno could say anything further, the bike gang leader had mounted his motorcycle, wheeled it around, and shot past him into the darkness of the alleyways.

* * *

Yuffie woke with a start when she heard her door slide open. Rolling onto her back and sitting up, hand groping instinctively for her boomerang-shuriken, she relaxed when she saw, in the light cast by the moon through her window, that it was only Reno.

She tensed back up again when she saw how beat up he was.

His bottom lip was split, and the right side of his face was beginning to purple. One of his arms was also wrapped protectively around his chest.

"Reno! What the hell happened?"

"Your good buddy Makoto showed me a good time." Reno began to swagger into Yuffie's room, then winced and clutched a little more at his chest.

Yuffie's face contorted into an expression of barely restrained anger, and her teeth began to grind together. "I'll kill him. I swear I will."

"Less righteous anger, more finding your Cure materia."

The ninja-girl blinked several times, then shook her head and vaulted to her feet to begin rummaging through her room. Reno watched with no small amount of amusement as she ransacked her drawers and materia began to fly everywhere. _Blue, purple, yellow… red? _Reno thought. _Right, AVALANCE let her keep Ramuh, since Leviathan was going to the city. Where the hell's the green?_

With a small growl, Yuffie moved to a different dresser, opened a drawer, and was confronted with a wealth of glowing green magic materia.

"Lightning… Fire… Destruct… Barrier… Morph… Heal, so close… Earth… Poison… Cure!"

Yuffie turned away from the dresser and thrust the materia into the air triumphantly, then looked down at her feet and realized that there was now materia rolling all over her room.

Reno bent down and scooped up one of the blue materia that bumped against his foot. "And Cloud always wondered where he'd stuck his Quadra Magic."

Quickly, Yuffie snatched that one and stuffed it back into a drawer. "And he'll never know. Just a second, Reno." Not bothering to bond the materia to herself, Yuffie simply focused her will through it and directed it at Reno.

A moment later Reno tested a grin and was relieved to feel that his lip was no longer split and the right side of his face no longer ached. There was the tiniest twinge of protest from his ribs, still, but the worst had been dealt with.

That done, he took the Cure materia from Yuffie, rolled it around in his fingers for a second, and then tossed it onto the floor with the rest of her stash. Enfolding her in an embrace, Reno felt her return the hug, wrapping her arms around his back and pressing her body against his, a sensation that was quite distinct even through the jacket he'd thrown on before he'd left. She drew back bare inches so she could tilt her head up at him and he kissed her fiercely, much preferring it to the taste of blood that had dominated his mouth for the past hour.

Reno finally tried to disengage from Yuffie, but she brought her teeth down on his tongue and held him there, her lips curling up into an impish smile. Feeling a smile begin to lift the corners of his own lips, Reno pulled his tongue back into his mouth with a quick tug. "Sorry. Gotta breathe sometime, sugar."

Yuffie's grin widened for a moment and she ran a hand down his face, then her expression turned somber and she pulled him into a tighter hug. "Makoto fought with you?"

"Apparently he didn't take being asked to leave too well. Figured it was my fault."

"As though I'll ever marry him now," Yuffie hissed, the edge of her tone taken off by the fact that her voice was muffled in Reno's jacket. "What an idiot."

Withdrawing from Yuffie, Reno shrugged as he strolled further into her room, being careful not to step on any materia. "He hits hard, though. Maybe that's all you need to do to be a winner in this town." Feeling his ribs twinge again – _maybe one of them was broken, not just bruised_ – Reno shucked the jacket and tee-shirt, then began to locate the source of the pain with probing touches. He hit upon it just below his right pectoral, a quick, harsh bolt of unpleasantness that said _was broken, still not entirely better yet_.

Turning around, Reno asked, "Yuffie, where're your bandages? I think I need a wrap to stabilize this rib here."

"Another zap from the materia god won't do it?"

"Never trust Cure materia when you're talking about knitting bone. If you superaccelerate the process and the thing's out of alignment, you'll have to rebreak it just to set it back properly."

Yuffie frowned sympathetically and rummaged through several more drawers before retrieving a roll of bandage, which she tossed to Reno. He caught it out of midair and plopped himself down into a cross-legged position next to Yuffie's floor mat.

She crossed the room and took a moment to discreetly admire him. Reno sat straight-backed, squinting unconsciously with concentration as he wound the bandage around his lower chest. He was all whipcord muscle, not bulky but hard and compact with what might pass for steel cable if you tried to assault it.

"Yup, I know I'm built like some kinda flawless marble statue," Reno drawled, and Yuffie suppressed a snort and just smiled faintly. "Too bad your pal Makoto hits hard enough that marble just doesn't cut it." He finished the wrap, which encompassed both pectorals and extended halfway down his abdominals. "So, how do I look? Dangerous and roguish?"

"Very," Yuffie replied, not bothering to cover her sincerity with sarcasm. "Don't worry me like that again."

Reno cocked an eyebrow at her as he tossed her the roll of bandages, which she fumbled and nearly dropped before getting a firm hold on. "Worry you like what again?"

"How d'you think I felt when I saw Rude come in without you? And then when I ask where you are, he says you decided to _walk here_ from _downtown Wutai_. It's lucky I got to sleep again at all."

"It was a busy night, Yuffie. I just needed a little time to think."

Placing the roll on a shelf, Yuffie walked over to Reno and sat down on the floor mat behind him, draping her arms over his bare shoulders and bringing her mouth up to his ear. "So," she murmured. "Did you and Rude have a good boy's night out?"

"Just awesome. I requisitioned us some rides, and Rude got invited by mistake into a meeting with an agent of the guy who's supplying the biker gangs with weapons. How'd he get in? Turns out the way's to walk into The Jade Dragon – where I found the guy who's making our bikes – at the right time carrying _an umbrella_."

Yuffie was silent for a moment as she absorbed this, and then Reno felt her tickle his ear with the air from a series of _nyuk nyuk nyuk_s. "Guess that thing came in handy after all."

"It's going to keep coming in handy. We're sending Rude back in two nights from now to get info on something big they're planning. I figure it's something that's not going to go down well with Godo, the cops, or the city."

Automatically, Yuffie kissed the nape of his neck before saying, "Be careful. I don't want you dying trying to stop me from marrying."

Chuckling, Reno pitched his legs out from under him so he could lie down, resting his head on Yuffie's thigh. "No worries, sugar. All I need right now is some sleep."

With a smile, Yuffie shifted her position so that she was lying on her floor mat, Reno's head still resting on her thigh. "Goodnight, Reno."

"'Night, Yuffie."

* * *

Rude found them that way at eight in the morning the next day, the both of them still snoring and oblivious to the world.

He was already in his suit and sunglasses, having risen at seven-thirty sharp. In his right gloved hand was his umbrella, its point tapping against the floor in time with his foot.

Finally, Rude walked into the room and poked Reno in the gut with the umbrella, being careful to avoid the wrap his partner now had on. _He'll tell me about it later_. The redheaded Turk started awake, grabbing the umbrella and tugging hard. When Rude didn't let go, Reno blinked and focused on him.

"Oh, hey, partner. Wussatime?"

"Eight-oh-two," Rude replied. "Not counting today, we've got two more days to get Yuffie out of this marriage thing."

At the sound of her name, Yuffie snorted, muttered something, and then began to wake up. Reno sat up, rubbing at his eyes, and looked down at her, smiling. "Morning."

Yuffie sat up, yawning and stretching, then winced. "Ow. My leg's asleep. That's what I get for being your pillow, Reno."

Grinning, Reno spun himself around. "Here, lemme massage it for you."

"Flirt later. We have things to do," Rude butted in.

Reno froze with his fingers outstretched, halfway to Yuffie's leg. "What?"

"Both of you need to throw on something decent. We're heading to the Wutai library of public records or its equivalent."

"What for?"

"We need to do research. First, we need to figure out if there's some legal precedent we can use to cancel this marriage. We also need to know more about Karsk. Unless you think we're going to get through this by just riding bikes around and kicking ass."

"That _was_ the general plan, yeah," Reno replied. "But yours sounds much better."

* * *

An hour later, the three of them were at the Wutainese Office of Records, a large, imposing brick building that stuck out like a sore thumb in the middle of the colorful downtown atmosphere.

Their research was not as immediately successful as they'd hoped.

Reno sat back and closed the book that he'd been reading. It was a record of all arranged marriages in Wutai within the past fifty years, as well as a list of any annulments or divorces and stated reasons. None of them helped; unless Karsk or Makoto were _both _proven to be abusive or unable to support Yuffie financially, there was no grounds for disqualifying them as suitors, nor would there be any grounds for annulling the marriage.

"How's it coming?" Yuffie asked. She was going through another book detailing the grounds on which a marriage could be annulled, and it was just as thick as the one Reno had been consulting.

"Nothing. I'm drier than a squid washed up on the shore that was then chopped up and roasted over a slow fire." Reno paused. "So, yeah, not coming at all."

Rude came over to Reno's table and put down something that looked like a hardback cover sewed precariously onto a literal mountain of thin white pages. When it made contact with the table, Reno felt the wood shake and there was a loud _thump_.

"What the hell is that?"

"The official book of citizenships currently held, given at birth or applied," Rude replied. "This should give us some basic information on Karsk."

Eyeing the book, Yuffie thumped it several times and watched dust billow out of it. "You think this thing's been updated anytime within the past couple centuries?"

Rude opened it and checked the preface, written in both Wutainese and "foreign" speech. "Yup. Updated a year ago, at the last census. Just hasn't been touched since then." He began flipping through it, then stopped when unreadable Wutainese characters stared up at him from the majority of the pages. "Yuffie, maybe you could…?"

With a short sigh, Yuffie got in front of the book – the thing was large enough that she had to stand on the chair to be able to read it. She flipped through it until she reached the "K" section – or what Reno and Rude assumed to be the "K" section – and began running her finger down the massive amount of entries.

Finally, she stopped at one and said, "Here we go. Karsk, Maximilian."

Reno snorted. "Maximilian. Hah."

"Served in the Shin-Ra army against Wutai during the war, officially surrendered to Lord Godo after he was left in charge of the garrison, was granted citizenship along with his men. Nothing particularly interesting."

Snapping his fingers in disappointment, Reno leaned back in his chair. "Any previous wives, girlfriends, maybe? Well, won't mention girlfriends, but… yeah."

Yuffie squinted and her eyes flicked back and forth down the page. "No… but – holy _shit_."

Reno pitched himself forward again at her exclamation and asked, "What? What is it?" Rude also leaned forward, closer to the book.

"No wonder he hasn't taken any wives after being granted citizenship," Yuffie said. "Says here that he's gay."


	6. Chapter VI

Jon Stewart… tubes… making me laugh too much. Wooooooooooooooookay. Chapter VI. (Can anyone explain to me why I've been getting motivated to write at 2:00 AM and not some more convenient time? Am I _insane_? Inspiration particles, thou sleetest through yon universe most precariously.)

* * *

Reno, Yuffie, and Rude left the car in a parking garage and traveled several blocks north. Ten minutes later they stood before the towering edifice that was Sub-General Maximilian Karsk's personal condominium. It was three stories high, built in the old Wutainese style, sporting multiple flaring eaves and several parapets.

"So Karsk and a bunch of his old army buddies live here?" Reno asked.

"That's what the book said," Yuffie replied, referencing a public housing records book that they'd scoured for Karsk's location. "We ready?"

"Just a sec. Partner, you got a persuasive backup plan ready in case the shit hits the fan?"

Rude raised the umbrella and tapped its tip. Reno and Yuffie squinted and then saw the small, flattened cylinder resting against the tip, almost invisible next to the similarly colored fake wood.

"It'll take me a quarter second to trigger and it'll blow anything within ten meters to hell," Rude replied. "I can also make it flash red."

"Ooh, do it now," Yuffie said with a grin.

Raising an eyebrow but making no comment, Rude's left hand – which was conveniently in his pocket – gave a small twitch, and the tip of the umbrella flashed a red diode at them for a moment. Yuffie gave a short giggle of appreciation before shaking her head and reassuming a serious expression. "Alrighty, let's go."

The three of them nonchalantly walked up to the entrance of the compound. Reno looked around for a moment, then located the doorbell. He gave it a press and the sound of chimes came from within the building. "Neat," he observed.

Within seconds, the door in front of them opened to reveal a large, burly man whose rigid posture and footing screamed _ex-elite battalion member_ to Reno. "Yes?"

"Hiya," Yuffie chirped. "I'm Yuffie Kisaragi, and these are my bodyguards, Reno and Rude. I'd like to talk to Sub-General Karsk."

The man looked at Reno and Rude. "Bodyguards? Red here doesn't look the part."

"This _was_ supposed to be my vacation," Reno drawled. "I don't dress in a tee-shirt and jeans for the fun of it, you know. It's vacation wear, and I didn't bring a suit."

With a shrug that seemed to resonate through the twin mountains that were his shoulders, the ex-solider replied, "Tell me about it. I never got used to being out of uniform, either. Anyway, Sarge did mention you, Ms. Kisaragi, so I figure you all can go on in."

"I thought Sub-General was the rank that Karsk held," Rude interrupted.

"Well, technically none of us hold ranks anymore. Everyone who wasn't in the battalion just calls Sarge 'Sub-General' because that's what they know him as, and we call him Sarge because that's what he was to us. We could call him Supreme Warlord of the Entire Goddamned World and it'd be same difference."

He motioned for them to follow, and he turned about with military precision and began to walk – _no, march_ – down the hallway that the door opened up onto.

It was a march because the man covered precisely a meter with every stride. It was a mechanical motion, one that spoke of years' worth of discipline, and Reno was again struck by the thought that just maybe the old army members hadn't shucked all of their previous habits.

The ex-soldier led them down the hallway, past several adjoining rooms, up two flights of stairs, down another hallway through what was obviously the living quarters of the building, and finally gestured to the room that the hallway dead-ended at. "Sarge's inside. We'll be nearby."

Reno nodded and motioned for Yuffie to head in first. He sought their guide's eyes, held them for a moment, and then nodded once again, more slowly. The man returned the gesture, an indication of mutual understanding, before shouldering past them and disappearing into one of the rooms. _We don't screw with your boss, you don't screw with us. Everything's cool_.

Yuffie slid open the door to Karsk's room, vaguely expecting something Spartan and military. What greeted her and the two Turks was a tastefully arranged room, very neat, very precise. The floor mat was off in a corner by one of the many windows that lined the walls. Up against the opposite wall was a large panel with multiple screens and a console, beneath which rested a chair. _Security system_, Reno noted. In the center of the room was a small table with tea set out on it and three floor cushions placed concentrically around its west side, while one floor cushion was on its east side, occupied by Karsk, who looked imposing and grave. He had on a neutral grey, long-sleeved shirt and a black _hakama_. Behind him was a stretch of wall between two windows looking out on the city. On the wall was hung a black _kamishimo_ outfit with the diagonal red slash that Reno had noted on the man's quasi-uniform the first time he'd seen him. At the base was what Reno assumed to be a sword more along the lines of what Sephiroth had used than the broadswords he saw most bikers carrying, though the blade length, however impressive, was nowhere near as long as what the silver-haired madman had wielded. It was placed on a ceremonial stand and sheathed entirely in a _shirasaya_ scabbard, made of wood to protect the blade.

Karsk had obviously known they were coming, no doubt from the security apparatus on the left side of the room. He briefly scanned all three of them, briefly catching Reno's gaze and tracing it to the sword behind him.

"That," Karsk said without being asked, "is the _tachi _that Lord Godo presented to me when I was made a citizen of Wutai. You rarely see swords of this particular make here in Wutai, as most would-be swordsmen prefer the _liuye dao _or perhaps the _niuweidao_."

"Looks like the sword Sephiroth used," Reno observed casually. "Any relation?"

"The Masamune that General Sephiroth used was a variant of the _ōdachi_, a very long sword that was often forged for symbolic or ritual purposes, as the blade length was oftentimes too great to be wielded by a man – or at least any man not possessed of the General's powers. The _tachi_ was a cavalry weapon, as its length assisted in the dispatching of enemy footsoldiers from atop a horse, but it could also be a personal weapon if the wielder was skilled."

Reno automatically catalogued the fact that Karsk referred to Sephiroth with a rank. He let Yuffie take up the thread of conversation from there.

"You have an interest in swords?" she asked, taking Reno's cue.

"A trifling one, but nothing to concern yourselves with unless you share my tastes on the subject. Please, do sit down."

They took his invitation and seated themselves on the cushions while Karsk poured them tea. _At least he's polite_, Reno thought. _A damn sight better than Makoto, that's for sure_.

"So, Lady Kisaragi," Karsk addressed her after he'd finished pouring the tea and set the pot back down. "What might the purpose of your visit to my compound be?"

"We have a… _question_ for you," Yuffie replied. "One that I think we'd better discuss in private."

One of Karsk's eyebrows inclined the tiniest fraction of a degree. He motioned to Rude, and the Turk nodded and slid the door shut behind him.

"What is your question, then?"

Yuffie coughed nervously to clear her throat and then plunged in. "You see, we were just at the Wutainese Office of Records, doing some research. We came across your entry in the list of citizenships held, and… well… it says that you're gay."

Contrary to what Reno had been expecting – perhaps a chortle and an amused, but negative, response – Karsk inclined his head. "Yes, I am. What would your question be, Lady Kisaragi?"

That threw Yuffie for a loop. She looked over her shoulder at Reno, who was studying the tea in his cup, immersed in his own thoughts, and at Rude, who was unreadable through his sunglasses. Finally she looked back at Karsk, cleared her throat again, and plowed onwards. "Well, that is to say, why d'you want to marry me if you're gay?"

"A valid inquiry." Karsk took a sip of tea before continuing. "I'm sure you've heard that your other suitor, Makoto, is intent on marrying you for political power, despite what he himself might say. In essence, Lady Kisaragi, it is no different with me."

"Well, that's straightforward."

"A quality I find most refreshing when encountered," the aged Sub-General observed. "Allow me to further explicate. It is not in my nature to remain still. I wish to be on the move, doing things, and I always have strived to. For quite a while now I have remained still, not only in the sense that I have remained in Wutai, but that my status has not changed. I aspire to be part of the government of this city, Lady Kisaragi, because I have come to consider it my home and I wish to lend my expertise to it. However, despite the positive view of me that most citizens entertain for my defection from the Shin-Ra, they would not see me holding any sort of political power. Once a foreigner, always a foreigner, unfortunately. By marrying you, I will be able to introduce myself into Wutainese politics and prove my competence to the public." Karsk took another sip of tea. "I was actually intending to invite you here tomorrow for this chat, Lady Kisaragi, to reveal my sexual preferences to you. As I am gay, I would not ask anything sexual of you. It would be a marriage in name only – you would certainly come to live with me so that I might support you, but you would retain your own independent life. Since I would not be a sexual partner, I would have no aversion to your maintaining your relationship with Mr. Reno here, as long as it would be discreet. I would not even require the formality of our sharing a bed."

"An' what about you?" Reno asked. His expression betrayed nothing and his tone was even. "You got any partners, Sub-General Karsk?"

Karsk shook his head negatively. "No. I am fifty-nine years old, after all. I could not ask services of any of my men – they are too dear to me on a different level to contemplate having any of them as a partner, though many of them would not be disinclined. The one man I had any real interest in ceased to exist a long time ago, insofar as reports here could tell me."

"Who?" Yuffie asked automatically, leaning forward a bit. A moment later she frowned, leaned back, and bowed her head slightly. "Sorry. That is, if it's all right with you."

"It is no secret. I greatly admired General Sephiroth."

Reno swallowed his tea and felt it fill his insides with a glowing warmth different from that of alcohol. "How'd he take it?"

Karsk shrugged. "We had a professional relationship, Mr. Reno. While I do not deny that I was attracted deeply to the General, we had a job to do. I respected him as a military leader – a genius – and he considered me his loyal right-hand man. Regardless of all the talk of brotherly love that circulated in the army, actual homosexuality was almost nonexistent, so he was the only person I informed of my sexual orientation. General Sephiroth, of course, never held that against me – he never shunned my advice nor failed to accept my support. I understood that he would never attempt a relationship with me, and I never held that against _him_. In a different world, perhaps it could have worked, but we had a war to win."

"It sounds like you two were pretty good buddies," Yuffie observed. "Why'd he ditch you here to command the garrison?"

_That_ provoked a reaction from Karsk. His brows drew together and his mouth flattered into a thin line, a frown that cast a multitude of wrinkles into harsh relief across his aged yet still charismatic face. "It was not the General's idea that I be left here," he finally replied. "Certain… _superiors_ came across reports of my homosexuality. The source of these reports, as far as I was able to determine, was from a disgruntled private whom I had punished for failing to uphold military discipline properly. It was pure chance that this charge he levied against me was in fact true. When the superiors in question asked me if the private's claims were true, I did my duty and responded truthfully. They assured me it would not change anything – and then stranded me here."

Karsk's mouth twisted into an even harsher line. "General Sephiroth did what he could, but said superiors did not want me any more. I was stationed here on permanent assignment, and here I am today."

"Said superiors being… President Shin-Ra, maybe?" Reno asked.

The old Sub-General nodded. "I never did like him. I always thought his son, Rufus, was much brighter. How is Rufus, Mr. Reno? Or is it not true that you work for him?"

"Nope, my partner and I work for 'im, though I'm not about to advertise that in this city. He's doing just fine – recovered from Geostigma a while back along with everyone else."

Karsk nodded slowly. "Excellent. I do thank the both of you, and you, Lady Kisaragi, for indulging me. It has been some time since I spoke of my abandonment, and it is always good to unburden myself of the subject occasionally."

"It was… no problem," Yuffie managed. "I'm glad we all get one another. Thanks for the tea."

"You're welcome, Lady Kisaragi. David will show you out."

* * *

The compound belonging to Grandpa Souta was thrumming with noise as he and his team commenced work on Reno's and Rude's motorcycles. Rei, who had a room upstairs, was just beginning to fall asleep – she worked night shifts, after all – when she heard someone pounding on the door downstairs.

With a small sigh, she rose from her floor mat, pulled a robe around herself, and padded down the stairs. The pounding continued unabated and she yelled, "I'm COMING! Don't break down the door or anything!"

Finally making it downstairs, Rei rushed to the door and opened it just in time for Makoto to retch up blood all over her favorite bunny slippers.

"Makoto! What the hell happened?"

The young man staggered inside, then jerkily straightened up and looked at Rei. Her eyes widened when she saw what a horrible condition she was in.

"I got into a couple fights 's all. Dun havta get so _mad_."

_He's drunk_.

"Grandpa Souta!" Rei shouted. "We need your help!"

"We?" the old mechanic shouted from his workshop. "Makoto?"

"Yes!"

Rei heard footsteps against the wooden floor and Grandpa Souta emerged into the hall a moment later. He took one look at Makoto and shook his head. "You're in terrible shape."

What looked like a sneer plastered itself on Makoto's face, but slipped off when he winced from the pain it caused him. "Shaddup, old man. I'm jus' fine. You don't gotta be worryin' 'bout me…"

"You threw up blood all over my feet!" Rei replied. "We're bandaging you up and putting you to bed."

"But nuthin'! I gotta get back to my gang!"

Makoto turned and began to drag himself back towards the door when Grandpa Souta's hand came out of nowhere, forefinger and middle finger extended, and jabbed him right in a vital _ki_ point. The biker gang leader collapsed, unconscious.

"Will he be all right?" Rei asked worriedly, hurrying to pick him up off of the floor.

Shrugging, Grandpa Souta pulled Makoto up and shouldered one of his arms, motioning for Rei to take the other one. "He'll be fine. I've never seen him this beaten up, but his aura isn't diminished. He'll live."

Rei shook her head sadly as the two of them began to head up the stairs, Makoto dangling limply between them. "You're a harsh man, Grandpa. He's trained himself for years in the old arts, struggling all the while, and here you are having mastered them and never raising a finger to help."

"I'm not passing on Shiranui-ryū to the next generation. I've told you that before, Rei-_chan_."

"I know, I know. Makoto would never forgive you if he learned that your refusal to help train the armed forces was a key factor in the Shin-Ra victory, after all."

"The philosophy of Furanui Kenjutsu is adaptation and growth. If Wutai succeeded in winning against the Shin-Ra, they could not force us to change and break the stagnation that had been gripping our empire."

"I know, Grandpa. You've told me this many times." Hesitating for a moment, Rei steeled herself and plowed onwards. "But then is it really all right for Makoto to be using Shiranui-ryū? That doesn't bother you?"

She resisted the urge to suck in air through her teeth in alarm when she saw the skin around Grandpa Souta's eyes tighten. Bracing herself for a rebuke, she was relieved when he replied, "No, it doesn't. What he commands _is_ Shiranui-ryū, but not the principles of it. He uses it as a mere blunt instrument to enforce his will when it should be used dispassionately against evil. _That_ is why he will never be able to use the full power of the style."

Rei shrugged as best she could with Makoto's arm on her shoulders. "You know my feelings on that. If he knows the moves, he knows the style, principles be damned. He can still kill someone with it."

The old mechanic sighed. "You really are well-suited to be a geisha, Rei-_chan_. You have about as much insight as a tadpole."

"Excuse _me_?"

"The explosive power of one attacking is different than the stolid power of one defending. So it is with a man merely attempting to better his position in life and a man attempting to do away with evil for the greater good."

Scowling, Rei opened the door to her room and helped Grandpa Souta lay Makoto out on her floor mat. _I'll have to use Grandpa Souta's bed now. Great_.

"Wait outside," he instructed her. "I'll see to his wounds – unless you'd like to help me undress him?"

Rei replied by way of sliding the door shut behind her. She hadn't missed the rising humor in Grandpa Souta's voice as he'd asked _that_ particular question. _No matter how I feel about him, I'd never take advantage of Makoto like that._

Ten minutes came and went without incident, and Grandpa Souta stepped out of Rei's room and closed the door behind him. "He has several fractures, but nothing that can't be stabilized with a wrap, which I've done. Aside from that, he'll just need a little time to recover and perhaps a Cure spell to speed the healing process. I'd let him sleep for now."

Bowing slightly at the waist, Rei made way for Grandpa Souta to descend the stairs. "Thank you."

"Foolish boy," the old mechanic muttered. "No doubt this was over Lady Kisaragi. I'd tell you to be more promiscuous around him, but his head's so high in the clouds that nothing except a phoenix will draw his attention. If you're going to rest, use my bed."

Rei stifled a snort at that and waited for Grandpa Souta to descend the stairs and disappear back into his workshop. She could hear him starting to shout at the crew about something involving hydraulics.

Quietly, Rei slid open the door to her room and knelt next to Makoto's prone form. He was stretched out on her floor mat, bandages covering most of his torso and arms. Fortunately, Grandpa Souta had known that Rei would want to observe him for a moment, so he'd re-dressed Makoto after he'd been bandaged. Rei and Makoto had certainly taken baths together in their youth, but modesty still had to be preserved.

A moment later, Rei noticed a spider slowly crawling along the floor towards the side of Makoto's head. She reached over him and flicked the thing away, but as she pulled back Makoto grabbed her by the wrist.

Rei started and tried to pull away, but Makoto didn't relinquish his grip on her wrist. He stared up at her, his eyes wild and blinking rapidly. She tried to withdraw again, then froze when she felt his other hand slowly running down her cheek.

Silently, she looked upon that face she knew so well, unconsciously holding her breath. Rei gazed into his brown eyes, and hesitantly, almost reticently, traced the fingers of her free hand along his jaw.

His response was to pull her to him and ravenously cover her mouth with his own. The world dropped out from under Rei and she stopped thinking, the only thing crossing through her mind being that she could not possibly press her body against his writhing form any harder, but that she had to, that it was the thing that she wanted the most in the entire world.

Rei began, instinctively, to slide her free hand around his shoulder and down his spine when he broke off abruptly and jerked out of her embrace, skittering backwards several feet on his elbows like a frightened animal.

He rasped, "Rei! What happened?"

Blinking with surprise, Rei replied, "You… weren't you conscious? You looked that way."

"No, I was!" Makoto gasped, his voice rattling. "I just… tell me, Rei! Tell me where Yuffie went!"

The sentence struck Rei like a blow. She reeled backwards from her half-crouch into a haphazard sitting position, hands splayed flat on the floor behind her. She licked her lips; she could still taste him, she could still feel his hand on her cheek and his jaw beneath her fingers, she could still feel him pressing up against her with reckless, passionate abandon that was so unlike the Makoto she knew.

"Yuffie had to leave," Rei responded hoarsely. "Go back to sleep, Makoto."

A look of intense weariness came over the young man, and he nodded, pulling himself across the room to the floor mat. "You're a good friend, Rei," he croaked, swallowing a second afterwards to try to clear his voice. "Thanks for everything."

He pulled her into a brief embrace, then flopped down on the floor mat and closed his eyes.


	7. Chapter VII

Authornote blurb here! Too entrenched in Ragdoll Masters to think of one! Seamless product placement is a lie! Chapter VII is also here.

* * *

"Next stop of the day, Grandpa Souta's place," Reno declared as they stepped out of Karsk's condominium. "I got the address from him 'fore we left The Jade Dragon."

"We're heading there?" Yuffie asked. "When did we decide this?"

"Call it a spur-of-the-moment decision. I wanna see how much progress the old man's made on our bikes. He should have 'em ready by the time Karsk and Makoto'll have to play dice to figure out who marries you, but I like checking up on my investments."

Trailing a step behind them, Rude discreetly removed the explosive from the tip of his umbrella and deposited it in a garbage bin. "Backup plan's secure, Reno – unless trash pickup's anyone soon."

Raising an eyebrow, Yuffie looked over her shoulder at the bald Turk. "What backup plan? And no, trash pickup is a week from now."

"Rude and I discussed it last night on the way to The Jade Dragon. If we needed to, we could take Karsk out of the running to marry you, no problem."

"How d'you figure that?"

A small grin breaking out on his face, Reno jerked a thumb in the direction of the pagoda. "The Leviathan shrine with the materia's there, right? All we gotta do is sneak in and steal that materia, then plant it in Karsk's room and set off the explosive in the bin. The police go in, they get to snooping, they find the thing."

Yuffie felt her mouth open in a silent _oh_ of surprise for a moment before she collected herself. "Are you _crazy_, Reno? Rude said that that thing would blow up anything within… er."

"Ten meters," Rude supplied.

"_Ten meters_! That's, like, a _really big hole_. What if you kill someone?"

Reno's grin slipped off of his face and his expression turned deadly serious. "That's what Rude and I do, Yuffie. I've killed people on the job before, and it wasn't even personal. You think I'm gonna bat a goddamned eyelash at killing some grunt to keep you from getting married to someone you don't love?"

No words supplied themselves to Yuffie at first. She just stared at Reno as the three of them walked back to the car and got inside.

This was the side of him that Yuffie almost never saw – and she was glad of that. Reno could be something of a pain at times, that much was true, but Yuffie knew that deep down he was a good person. He just didn't have as many ideals as most other people, wasn't burdened by religious faith or moral quandaries. If he wanted something, he worked to achieve that end, and Yuffie knew that he was not lying when he said he would kill whoever happened to be in the way to keep her from being married against her will.

_The only reason he hasn't gone ballistic on Karsk and Makoto is probably that he knows killing them wouldn't solve anything. It would only complicate things, so he has to follow the rules of the game for now if he wants to win._

Yuffie stole another glance at Reno as he started the car, and she saw that he'd resumed being cheerful. Oftentimes she wondered if the cheer and the clowning around was just a front, thrown up to conceal something much less pleasant and jovial. That was silly, of course; Reno was just a goofball at heart. He'd just adapted to his job and his lot in life with admirable tenacity.

They stopped at an intersection and a group of bikers roared by perpendicularly. Yuffie looked over at Reno again and saw the smile and cheerful expression flicker for just a barely perceivable second.

A chill ran itself down her spine and the ninja-girl concentrated on the road in front of the car. What she saw beneath that smile couldn't be the Reno that she knew – _and_ _loved?_ – but instead had to be some emotionless shell he'd thrown up to keep himself together through difficult times. What he did was by definition difficult, after all.

What she saw when Reno dropped his smile frightened her.

It wasn't as though she glimpsed a different person than Reno in those brief instances. He was still himself, but he was bereft of all the qualities she associated with him. Assuming that he only showed this face to a select few, Yuffie figured that she should be honored, if not precisely thrilled. It meant that, perhaps, she was one of the people that he felt he could actually act tired around.

If there was one word to describe him, she thought, it was "boundless." Boundless energy, boundless sarcasm, boundless good cheer even in the face of insurmountable obstacles. However, if what they'd been through in Spira had taught her anything, it was that nothing was boundless. Perhaps he felt he could stop being boundless around her, just for a little while, and let himself simply –

Be himself?

That couldn't be right. The wisecracking, irreverent young man was who Reno really was. He couldn't possibly be anything else, but that still left unanswered the question of what, then, happened to Reno in those brief instances.

Was he overtaken by something other than himself? Did he cease to be the Reno that Yuffie had shared so much with and become someone entirely different, a stranger? It wasn't possible that he could be Reno, and at the same time be this cold, mercilessly calculating person who would kill at the drop of a hat.

Despite all logic, Yuffie knew that the mutual exclusion of these two personalities had to be the truth, because she had seen this person in Sephiroth. She'd seen it in him, even when he'd had his Jenova simulacrum take Reno's shape and try to rape her while she slept. The idea that Reno could share any qualities with the man who'd come so close to sundering the world was a bitter pill that Yuffie could not bring herself to swallow, even though she knew it would eventually melt on her tongue in any event.

"We're here," Reno said.

* * *

Rei was just beginning, an hour later, to drift back into the realm of sleep when someone knocked on the door again.

_Dammit_.

For the briefest instant Rei considered pretending she was asleep and not answering the damn thing, but immediately rejected the idea. She was here on Grandpa Souta's generosity, and the least she could do was answer the door for him. Her makeup was sufficient to disguise any bags beneath her eyes.

Hauling herself to her feet, Rei stumbled out of Grandpa Souta's room, through the hall, down the stairs, and to the door. Suppressing a yawn, she opened it and was greeted with the sight of Yuffie Kisaragi, Reno, and Rude.

"It's you!" she managed. "Come in!"

Yuffie nodded and managed a grin. "Thanks. We met before?"

"I know your companions," Rei replied, stepping aside and beckoning the three in. The geisha observed, unconsciously, how loosely Yuffie walked – hips scintillating from side to side as though the short shorts she wore weren't enough. _No wonder Makoto…_

Suppressing a scowl, Rei cut herself off in mid-thought. _Jealousy is not permissible. Makoto has made his decision, and I have to respect that_.

"You look tired, Rei," Reno observed, starting her out of her reverie. "There somethin' wrong?"

"Not at all," Rei quickly replied. "I must ask you to be quiet, though. Makoto's upstairs, sleeping – he stumbled in here not an hour ago, drunk and beaten. I assume, Mr. Reno, that you didn't have anything to do with this."

A look flashed between Reno and Rude, and a moment later a similar look was exchanged between Reno and Yuffie. "Well, he tried to say 'hi' to me in an alleyway at around twelve-thirty," Reno said cautiously. "I didn't really manage to get in much more'n a couple of punches – purely for defensive reasons. After that we heard cops coming and he took off."

Rei pressed her lips together in a brief frown. "I see. Will you be wanting to speak to Grandpa Souta?"

"If that's all right."

"I'll just wait out here," Yuffie added. "Just looking at a motorcycle makes me queasy."

In one, crystal-clear moment, Rei made a decision. She motioned down the hallway. "Head that way, then take the first right. You'll come to Grandpa Souta's workshop."

With a short nod, Reno gave a small hand signal to Rude and the bald Turk followed as the redhead strode in the indicated direction. "Be back in a few, sugar."

"Alright."

Yuffie turned to wait outside with the car and Rei stretched out a hand and took hold of the ninja-girl's shoulder. "Pardon my rudeness, Lady Kisaragi… but could we speak?"

Stopping in mid-step, Yuffie spun on her heel and mustered a smile. "Sure! And call me Yuffie. All that 'Lady Kisaragi' crap is starting to get to me."

Rei inclined her head and motioned for Yuffie to follow, then ascended the stairs and moved past her room to Grandpa Souta's, seating herself in the center of the floor, which was featureless except for the floor mat off in a corner. The room itself, barring the windows, had but one decoration: a large and majestic ink painting, two meters long and a meter tall, that spanned the entirety of the east wall. It depicted Seiryū, known to outsiders as Leviathan, descending in a tidal wave on an invading horde.

_How differently it turned out,_ Rei briefly thought.

Yuffie seated herself in front of Rei and gave a short, upbeat sigh. "So… Rei, right? What's up?"

_I must do this for his sake_.

Quickly, before she could change her mind, Rei pushed herself up into a kneeling position and kowtowed, touching her forehead to the floor. She could hear the beginning of Yuffie's strangled protest, and to cut it off she looked up at the ninja-girl quickly and said, "I would like you to seriously consider marrying Makoto."

Quite obviously shocked, Yuffie stared at Rei for a second before replying. "He didn't… put you up to this, did he?"

"No. I am requesting this of my own volition."

"'Kay. Why?"

_It has to be said_. "People may think Makoto is insincere or prone to erratic behavior, Lady Kis – Yuffie. He's simply passionate about upholding his ideals. He wants to be in a position to see them enforced, and he needs power to do that… but you're not just power to him. He really does love you."

A scowl crossed over Yuffie's face before she smothered it. "How d'you know? Has he said anything to you?"

"When Grandpa Souta and I put him to bed, he was so beaten and tired that he had apparently crossed into mild delirium. At one point, he mistook me for you and… well…"

Yuffie made a noise in the back of her throat. "I gotcha. He must have been really shitfaced to mistake you for me – I'm nowhere near as pretty as you are."

In spite of herself, Rei flushed. "You're too kind."

"No, _you're_ really too kind. I mean, if our positions were reversed, there's no way in hell that I'd be doing what you're doing right now." Awkwardly, Yuffie leaned forward and put a hand on Rei's shoulder. "You really do care about him, don't you?"

For the first time in longer than she cared to remember – not counting what had happened earlier with Makoto – Rei had to consciously make an effort to bite back the tears. "I care about what's best for him. I don't know what, if anything, has made Makoto view you as this goddess that he so adores, but I know that nothing would make him happier than being able to marry you. And – if I may be so bold – what could Karsk offer you?"

"That's a whole other can of worms," Yuffie snorted. "But, hey, listen. When Makoto thought you were me, and… yeah."

"What of it?"

A small, sly smile appeared on the ninja-girl's face. "The way you told me it, is all. You didn't sound real upset about the fact that he was kissing you – you sounded upset about the fact that he _thought_ he was kissing _me_."

Again in spite of her best efforts, Rei felt blood rush into her face. "Is it that transparent?"

"No worries, Rei. I'm a girl, too. If you were telling some version of this to Rude, or even Reno, it would go right over their heads." Yuffie grinned as she continued. "They're nice guys, but in the end, _they're guys_."

Rei felt a small smile blossoming on her face. "That's true. But –"

"Hold on, I'm not finished yet," Yuffie butted in. "Now listen. I think it's great that you're willing to ask me to consider Makoto. It really shows how much you care about him. But it really doesn't do you much good, does it?"

"I –"

"_Listen to me_. Your intentions are good, Rei, but you're going about this entirely wrong! You're asking me to consider Makoto so you won't have to worry about your own feelings for him. If you've 'let him go' then it won't be an issue when me and him consummate in the back of The Jade Dragon, that's what you're thinking."

Knowing that the ninja-girl was right, Rei said nothing.

"I say bullshit. If our positions were reversed, and I was a geisha in love with some guy who's chasing after a ninja that really, really isn't interested, I'd grab him by the collar and slap him a few times and say 'HELLO? I'M STANDING RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU!'"

Rei felt her lips curve upwards in a small, sad smile that did not entirely reach her eyes. "That's easy for you to say, Yuffie. I'm not like you."

"Doesn't matter. If I see a materia I like, I'm not going to ask the guy who owns it what it does and how he got it – I'm going to steal it. In this case, you can't even really call it stealing, because the guy genuinely doesn't want the thing! The only reason that you're in this situation is because Makoto's an idiot and he's going after the ultimate prize when there's someone just as good right in front of him."

Unconsciously biting at her lower lip, Rei held up a hand. "Please, Yuffie. I truly thank you, but… I'm _not_ just as good. It's in Makoto's eyes that I have to make myself as worthy as you, and I'm afraid I can never do that."

"Don't put yourself down before you've tried!" Before Rei could say anything to stop her, Yuffie grabbed Rei's hands and pulled them between her own. "Listen here. I promise you that not only will I not be marrying Makoto, but I'll show him what a special person _you_ are. He can give you a chance for me, just like you were going to give me a chance for him."

A feeling passed over Rei, as though a great weight were being lifted from her back and she could finally spread long-crushed wings. _It could happen. It really could_.

And for the first time since she'd commended her parents' bodies to the family tomb, Rei let a tear slip down her cheek.

"Thank you, Yuffie."

Yuffie grinned and gave Rei a gentle thump on the shoulder. "Don't thank me just yet. We still gotta make it happen, after all."

The geisha wiped the tear from her face with the back of her hand and nodded. "You're right, of course. I can't properly express my gratitude."

"Then you don't have to. Frankly, Rei, you can keep him."

* * *

"I think the both of you will be very pleased with your bikes," Grandpa Souta said to Reno and Rude as they entered his workshop. A dozen young men swarmed through it while another dozen congregated around the frames of two bikes in the center of the place. "We're building them to your precise specifications and enhancing them where possible. Everything's going to be made of a mithril-titanium alloy, which combines the strength of mithril with the relatively light weight of the titanium. Engines are top-of-the-line models we got from our… _exotic_ suppliers. You do realize how much these are going to cost, right?"

Reno nodded absentmindedly as he surveyed the workshop. "Rufus doesn't like to brag, but he's still the richest guy in the entire world. He can foot you the bill no problem." Turning to where Rude was standing, Reno started to ask him a question, then realized Rude was no longer there. The bald Turk had moved to the edge of the group of mechanics concentrated around the bikes and started looking at the chasses being constructed.

"These hollow?" he asked, indicating the long, slender tubes that made up the shaping framework.

"Technically, no," Grandpa Souta replied. What they have inside isn't solid, however – it's a rather revolutionary honeycomb interior comprised of stacked triangular segments. Much lighter than solid framework, while only sacrificing about eighteen percent of its tensile strength."

"Excellent. And this is where you'll mount the side-facing explosive chutes?"

"Yes, though I can't see how you're comfortable with the idea of riding on what's essentially a giant bomb."

Rude shrugged lazily. "Getting blown up's not the worst way to die."

"He's got a point," Reno drawled. "You don't feel much, and you figure somebody's gonna have to clean up what's left of you, so you can get satisfaction from knowing that at least one person's regretting that you died."

With a snort, Grandpa Souta strolled to his workbench and picked up a large spanner. Reno didn't pay any particular attention until he saw the way that the old mechanic was holding the thing. He gripped it in his right hand, even though he was left-handed, and he had his hand at the very base of the spanner's shaft, just like –

_Just like you hold a Wutainese katana_.

The revelation must have widened Reno's eyes, because Grandpa Souta looked at him and asked, "Is there anything wrong, Mr. Reno?"

Recovering his wits, Reno replied, "No. You just hold that wrench like it was a sword."

One of the man's eyebrows rose. "How very astute of you. I have a… _marginal_ background in kenjutsu. Nothing of any particular interest."

Reno grinned, then pulled his riot prod, extended it, and hurled it in one movement. It spiraled through the air, crossing the distance between its owner and its target in barely a quarter second –

The loud clash of metal on metal could be heard even over the noise of power tools and the voices of the work crew. Everyone stopped what they were doing to see Grandpa Souta standing in a perfect reactive stance, the spanner held in the tightening-grip to increase power. He had struck the tip of Reno's incoming prod with the head of the spanner and sent the prod shooting into a wall.

"Yeah, not particularly interesting at all," the redhead laughed as he went to retrieve his prod. "You fight in the war, Grandpa Souta?"

Relaxing, the old mechanic straightened and shook his head. "The philosophy of the style I command did not allow it. Wutai was falling into stagnation, and only a great shock could save it from the plummet into total petrification and death. I therefore elected to remain outside the employ of the government and actually become a mechanic, not simply make my living by being one." He looked around for a moment at the still-silent mechanics. "What are you gawking at? Back to work!"

"Grandpa Souta," one of the mechanics said slowly, "he just _threw his prod at you_. You're going to act as though nothing happened?"

"For one, Kuze, he's paying good money for these bikes. For two, he wasn't aiming at me. If I'd stood there gawking like an idiot – much like you – it would have gone past my head and hit the far wall. He's not dumb enough to actually try a lethal test against me, because if I failed it he wouldn't be getting his bike, would he?"

Reno laughed and gave the old man a slap on the back. "I like the way you think. Rude and I appreciate this way more than you can know."

"Then do me a favor," Grandpa Souta said, "and don't mention this to Makoto. He only knows me as a quirky, grandfatherly mechanic. If he knew that I was a kenjutsu master, I have no doubt that he would feel threatened."

"Your secret's safe with us," Reno replied as solemnly as he could when he was grinning like an idiot at the prospect of Makoto being in the dark about something this important. "Right, partner?"

Rude turned around and blinked, slowly, something that was visible even behind the sunglasses. "Just make sure that my bike blows shit up," he said to Grandpa Souta, "and we're square."

"Deal."


	8. Chapter VIII

Good morning human guard. Let us in. That is all. (Cats & Dogs wins.) Chapter VIII for your purveyance.

* * *

"Well," Reno said as they exited Grandpa Souta's compound, "we've done everything that we needed to. We've figured out Karsk – sort of – and we know our bikes are on their way. And is it just me, Yuffie, or were you not waiting outside when we got here?"

Yuffie grinned. "Guilty. Rei and I had a... _talk_ about Makoto."

"What's there to talk about?"

The ninja-girl gave him a playful shove. "You really are thickheaded if you think that Rei's lived with Makoto basically her whole life and isn't interested in him. She's so interested, actually, that she asked me to marry him because she thought it'd be for the best."

Reno gave a low whistle and Rude said nothing but was clearly surprised.

"And you said... what?" Reno asked.

"I told her that I'd get Makoto to see that she wants to be with him is all. It'd make it easier on me for sure."

With a triumphant laugh, Reno ground his fist into his palm. "Alright! All we have to do now is frame Karsk for having stolen the Leviathan materia and get Makoto to realize that you're untouchable and that Rei's the only girl for him, and we'll be able to call off this wedding!"

"Not so fast, stud."

"Technicalities?"

"You know it. Unless Dad says that they're unsuitable, Karsk and Makoto can't be disqualified as my suitors now that they've pledged that they'd like to wed me. That means they can't back out, either."

One of Reno's eyes twitched slightly. "Lemme guess. The contract's made that way so the suitor's family can't use the future of the marriage as leverage for something like a higher dowry from the bride's family."

"Bingo."

They got into the car and Reno started the engine. "I'm still not feeling this. Sure, we'll have our bikes the night before the day of the dice match for you, but what can we really do then? What we need is some way to delay the match."

Yuffie frowned. "We could always use a technicality... but what kind, I don't know. It probably couldn't be about me or Karsk or Makoto..."

"Doesn't Wutai have a long history of astrological divination?" Rude asked.

For a moment, Yuffie just stared openmouthed at him. "...How..."

"He wanted to be an archaeologist before he joined the Turks," Reno butted in dryly. "Don't ask."

"Okay, I won't." The ninja-girl flipped herself around in her seat to look at Rude. "So what's your point?"

"Couldn't you cast a reading saying that the day's an inauspicious one and that you need to wait a week or so?"

"Dad doesn't go for those old traditions, Rude."

"But isn't throwing dice to determine the suitor the bride's to be wed to an old tradition?"

"Good point. Well, it's worth giving a try." Yuffie looked at Reno, who was merging into traffic. "Now we just need to find someone who can do astrological divination. Where should we start looking?"

"Let's ask one of the attendant monks at the Leviathan shrine," Reno suggested. "That way Rude and I can case the place so we know that we can steal the materia if we need to, and chances are good that someone who works at a shrine to a water god'll know about that kind of stuff."

"Sounds good to me. Let's go!"

* * *

They arrived at the shrine, hoping fervently that Godo didn't happen to be looking out his window at that particular moment, and scrambled inside. Since Reno's last visit, the shrine had been expanded into an actual walled temple, and an impressive one at that. In sharp contrast to the dominant red theme of Wutai's landscape, this temple was a deep, almost black blue, with a sloping midnight roof that was studded with renderings of the constellations on the interior. Reno suppressed another whistle when he saw it all, seeing as how there were people kneeling before the shrine in prayer.

The shrine itself was the most impressive feature of the already-impressive temple. It was carved entirely from emerald-green jade, which when taken in view of the dark blue temple walls gave it a regal, dark greenish-blue color. The shrine was formed in the shape of a massive dragon, twisting its body into a great wheel, head staring balefully down at the gathered worshippers, a five-fingered, clawed hand outstretched around the pedestal upon which the Leviathan materia was placed. It was the only warm color to be found in the entire shrine, which drew focus to it immediately.

"Impressive," Reno commented quietly. He craned his neck and looked up at the ceiling. "No entrances there, but I'll bet you that I could just get in through the window of some monk's quarters. Not too difficult, and I don't see any additional security in this room."

"Really no need for it," Yuffie replied. "We all figure that if you try to take the materia, the shrine'll come alive and kill you. You don't piss off Seiryū and get away with it, you know."

Reno blinked. "Seiryū?"

"His name. You all call him Leviathan – and that's not even really what it translates to. His traditional name's Qīnglóng, but that's in older dialects."

"Great. Now..."

Before Reno could look around for a monk, one popped up seemingly out of nowhere. "Greetings, Lady Kisaragi and companions," he said, bowing at the waist. "Might I be of service to you?"

"No 'begone from this holy place, filthy foreigners?'" Reno asked before Yuffie could say anything.

The monk's eyes narrowed slightly, but it was a pained expression, not an offended one. "No, though I fear it will not be long before my brothers grow overzealous and begin to bar foreigners from entry. What do you require?"

"We need an astrological divination made," Yuffie replied. "We're trying to figure out how auspicious a particular day is, and we need someone who knows how to do it."

"Certainly. Our master of ceremonies knows the old rites necessary for multiple types of divination. I'll show you to him."

* * *

The monks' master of ceremonies was a middle-aged Wutainese man who looked at Yuffie, Reno, and Rude sternly before inviting them to sit. His quarters were simple, modestly appointed, with astrological diagrams and constellations inscribed on the walls.

"There are many types of divination I can perform," he said, his voice a baritone. "Some weigh more heavily in certain areas of the world than others. Describe to me the purpose of your asking me to perform a divination and I will select the most appropriate type."

"I'm getting married soon, and I have two suitors," Yuffie started.

"So you wish to examine the auspices of the day that has been selected for the rolling of the dice."

"Yeah."

"A common request. Oftentimes asked for in order to move the appointed day, usually with the intent of delaying it."

Yuffie coughed nervously and gave a weak grin.

"Do not worry, Lady Kisaragi. It is not my place to judge – at least not out loud."

Reno laughed at that. "You're all right, old man. So, what'll be the deal?"

The monk raised an eyebrow. "I cannot falsify an astrological divination, young man. Whether or not the chosen day is auspicious is out of my control – your fate is literally in the hands of Seiryū." He turned his attention back to Yuffie. "The most appropriate divination in this case does not concern the positions of the planets, as it is an interpersonal affair. Instead, I will take your respective years of birth and correlate them in an array. Your ages, please."

"I'm eighteen. Karsk's fifty-nine and Makoto's twenty."

"So you, Lady Kisaragi, are of the Dragon... Sub-General Karsk is of the Pig... and Makoto is of the Tiger. When is the chosen date?"

"The twenty-first."

Twisting, the monk turned to study one of the diagrams on his walls, then turned back to Yuffie. "I will explain briefly how this array determines auspicious days. It takes the animal representing the birth year of each person involved – the bride and all suitors – and converts them into the _shichen_, or two-hour intervals, of said animals. We then add up the intervals between the different _shichen_. In this case, the sum is seven – one _shichen _between Tiger and Dragon and six _shichen_ between Dragon and Pig. If the appointed day is a multiple of the sum, it is auspicious. As the appointed day, in this case, is the twenty-first of the month, it is extremely auspicious – it is the sum times three, three being the amount of people that will be affected directly by the throwing of the dice."

"You're not factoring in the distance from Pig to Tiger?" Yuffie asked, thinking that there had to be a loophole _somewhere_.

"No. That would overcomplicate the array. It is linear."

Racking his brain, Reno finally asked, "Wouldn't it be possible for a third suitor to show up?"

"In this case, Lord Godo would have to allow it, and I doubt that anyone presents a solution more viable for the resolution of our current crisis than Sub-General Karsk or Makoto."

"What if the suitor in question was the richest man in the world?"

Yuffie sat up a bit straighter in surprise and looked at Reno. "You mean..."

"Yeah. Rufus Shin-Ra."

The monk snorted. "The son of the man who ordered Sephiroth to burn Wutai to the ground, marrying Lady Kisaragi in order to save it? I highly doubt that."

"He's turned over a new leaf," Reno insisted. "One call from me and not only will he make his personal fortune available to Godo for Yuffie's hand in marriage, he'll also offer the services of two veteran Turks."

After a long moment of silence, the monk asked, "His age, young man?"

"Twenty-two."

"In that case, his year is the Rat. The total _shichen_ difference would be eight, meaning the closest auspicious day would be the twenty-fourth. As there would be four people involved, it would not be _as _auspicious as the current date, but the benefits of Rufus Shin-Ra marrying Lady Kisaragi are up to Lord Godo to decide."

Grinning, Reno extended a hand to the monk, who cautiously took it and received a firm shake. "Thanks, old man. You've been a big help. Come on, Yuffie, partner. We're going to go hijack us a dice-rolling date."

* * *

"The date stands," Godo rumbled.

Reno struggled not to rise, pull his prod, and bash the man's head off right then and there. "Don't you see, though? If we're going by old traditions, you oughta observe auspices and stuff! That means you should push back the dice-rolling to the twenty-fourth if you're going to let Rufus become a suitor!"

"First, though I am unopposed to the idea of Rufus Shin-Ra's support, you need his agreement on this beforehand. Second, I'm only using the dice-rolling tradition as a decision-maker. The fact that it's a tradition just makes it handy. I'm not going to base my decisions on outmoded astrological divinations, for the love of Seiryū! Only fools would plan according to coincidental mathematics!"

"That's funny," Yuffie remarked snidely. "Didn't think you could really pick and choose when it came to traditions, Dad."

Godo gave her a heavy-lidded, _don't-go-there_ look. "I think that it will matter little, Yuffie. Now I suggest that you, Mr. Reno, call Rufus and get his agreement before pitching wild schemes to me. I know that you are doing this for Yuffie, and do not think that I don't appreciate it – but I _will_ hold Rufus to any pact he forms with me. Make sure he understands that." That said, Godo stood and moved to the back of the room, closing the door behind him.

Yuffie gave Reno a pat on the knee. "No worries, sugar. This'll work out, I know it will."

"It damn well better," Reno sighed, pulling his cell out and dialing Rufus' number. "If Rufus agrees to be one of your suitors, I can represent his interests in the dice match."

"Meaning what?" Yuffie asked.

A tight grin blossomed on Reno's face as his phone began to give him a dial tone. "Meaning that we'll find some way to cheat."

* * *

"If you'd told me I'd only be doin' manual labor, Rufus, I wouldn'a come," Cid grumbled.

The Shin-Ra president looked at the grizzled pilot, who was busily cross-wiring a large Ethernet processor. "You _do_ have a degree in electrical engineering as well as aircraft flight. We can use you, Cid."

"I still don't get what you're tryin' to do, kid. Transmit data through the goddamn _air_? Between two _computers_? Why the hell'd you want to do that?"

Rufus snorted gently. "Haven't you ever considered the advantages of having the capability for near-instantaneous data transfer in a form different than radio? Think of the advances we can make. Remote servers with entire libraries of information stored in data form, accessible via a local port. Saves you a trip to your local bookstore."

"I happen to believe in supportin' the small businesses," Cid shot back. "'Specially when they're going up 'gainst shit like massive corporations with a whole army, an elite force o' bodyguards, and a young punk for a president."

"I'll pretend I didn't grasp the humor in that."

Cid was about to fire off another riposte when Rufus' cell began to ring. "Go ahead 'n take that, I'll make sure none of yer techs sets off an explosion."

"Excellent." Rufus withdrew to a corner of the laboratory where his technicians were trying to create a data network between computers under the watchful eyes of Cid, Tseng and Elena. The two Turks weren't there so much to keep an eye on Cid as they were to protect the technical staff from his frequent and oftentimes borderline violent bursts of anger. _Cloud's group is great to have an alliance with, but some of them are just a few fiduciary duties short of a trust fund_.

"Rufus here."

"Boss, it's Reno."

"Reno, good to hear from you. Are you enjoying your leave in Costa Del Sol?"

"Well, long story short, we're in Wutai right now, and… I need a favor."

With a small grunt of satisfaction, Cid finished the wiring on the Ethernet processor. "Alright, that's done. Hey, someone run a power test on this –"

"**_YOU WANT ME TO DO WHAT_**?"

* * *

"I want you to tell Godo that you're willing to pledge financial support, and Rude's and my expertise, to his cause if you get to marry Yuffie," Reno repeated himself. "That difficult to understand or something, boss?"

"You know exactly what the problem is, Reno. I have no _interest_ in Yuffie, and I certainly don't have any _interest_ in saving Wutai from its biker gangs. The police should be able to handle it."

Reno sighed; he knew that word. Rufus never had an interest in anything, it was always an _interest_. A sum. Cash. Preferably cash that grew over time.

After a moment of thought, the redhead decided on a course of action. "Alright, I'll lay it out for you, boss," Reno said, his tone cheery. "If Yuffie gets married to some scumbag that doesn't give a damn about her beyond how it'll enhance his own power in Wutai, I'm going to kill him. But to make sure that it doesn't start up another war, I'll resign from Shin-Ra first. Sound good?"

Reno didn't miss Yuffie's shocked expression or the way that Rude's presence suddenly seemed larger. "Don't talk nonsense, Reno," Rufus growled, his composure slipping by just a small amount. "You're not resigning. I take care of my people. If you want to kill somebody, I'll say it was business for me. It'd be even better if it was that ex-Shin-Ra officer there – what's his name?"

"Karsk."

"Karsk, right. Operational security could have been compromised, et cetera. We did what we had to do. It doesn't really sound like the Wutainese government would be in any position to object."

"That's not the point, boss," Reno said, his voice losing its merry tone. "I've killed people before, so when I say I'm willing to kill for Yuffie it doesn't mean much. I've never _resigned_ before, though, and I've never wanted to, but I will if it comes down to it. That's how it is, and now it's your move."

A sharp burst of static meant that Rufus was blowing out a beleaguered sigh, probably curling up his bottom lip so the sigh blew some hair out of his face. Reno could see it in his mind's eye, that image of Rufus. The young president's blue-green eyes were pointed towards the ceiling and his left hand was in his immaculate white suit's pocket, his right holding his cell to his ear.

"Got a little hair in your eyes, boss?"

"Oh, shut up," Rufus snorted. "If that's how you want it, Reno, fine. But I'm _not_ flying out there to throw dice with some biker punk and a career officer long past his prime for some spaz ninja-girl."

"Excuse _me_?" Yuffie snarled. She had her ear up to the phone, after all.

"You can hear me, Ms. Kisaragi? Then get this straight: I'm not marrying you. Your father can just think that if it'll keep Reno from resigning."

"Not like I'd _want_ to marry _you_, babe."

"We understand one another, then. Reno, you'd better have a plan for getting out of this if you end up winning."

Reno's grin returned. "It's in the bag, boss. Tell Tseng and Elena 'hi' for me and Rude."

"Will do. Don't forget to enjoy your leave." There was a click, and it was done.

Pocketing his cell, Reno looked up into Yuffie's ecstatic face, which was adorned with a smile so large it could probably be construed as an aircraft hazard.

"You mean it, Reno? You'd resign from Shin-Ra for me?"

"Of course. Not _planning_ to, but if it came down to you or my job, well… I could always find a new career."

Rude got up and moved to the door Godo had disappeared through. He opened it and found the old man sitting in meditation in a small, austere rear chamber.

"Well?" Godo asked.

"Rufus says he's willing to enter into the marriage contract with the agreed-upon terms if Reno represents him at the dice throwing," Rude said.

"Excellent. The date remains the twenty-first." Opening one eye, Godo tried to look past Rude but failed to see anything of particular note. "Where are Reno and Yuffie?"

"They're teaching one another mouth-to-mouth resuscitation techniques."

Godo showed a small, brief smile before resuming his normal stony expression. "What about you, Mr. Rude? Have you any reason to try to make the best of this situation for Yuffie?"

Rude hesitated for a second, then replied, "Yuffie would do this much for me, and Reno likes her. That's really it."

"I see. The three of you are dismissed. And tell your partner and my daughter not to leave any clothing on my floor."

With a short nod, Rude stepped out.

* * *

No sooner had the three of them gotten into the car than did Reno say, "Tonight, we take Karsk out of the picture."

Yuffie looked at him, his electrifying taste still strong on her tongue. "You sure that's a good idea, sugar?"

"Now that Makoto won't be able to marry you by default when Karsk drops out, it's time to start fixing the odds in our favor. First, though, we need to make a little acquisition – a pair of Orochimaru jackets."

Rude raised an eyebrow, which Reno could see in the rear-view mirror. "You think the Orochimaru are going to try 'something big' tonight?"

"I'd say yeah, partner, but we're not members. Yet."

There was a satisfied, triumphant silence for several minutes as they merged back into traffic, then Yuffie pointed out, "By the way, Reno…"

"Yeah?"

"You didn't tell Rufus about the bikes."


	9. Chapter IX

An announcement now, readers: I will be departing for Pittsburgh, PA on August 6th to tour Carnegie Mellon and see the family. I'm spending a week or so there, so that means BTILW will not be updated during that time. If I were a superbeing like I'd have you all believe, I'd write you all the chapters beforehand and then update them from where I'll be in Pittsburgh, but it's just not possible right now. (Plus, that would mean staying up until three A.M. in order to stick to my normal schedule. Regardless of the fact that it'll only feel like twelve to me, it's not happening. I require sleep.)

All that aside, you _will_ be getting your Big Trouble in Little Wutai fix all next week. Stay tuned. Chapter IX is here in the meantime.

* * *

It was late afternoon by the time Reno got the car to what looked like Orochimaru territory, if the red snakes tagged all over the walls of the buildings were any indication. The sky had begun to cloud over and the air smelled of the iron tang of rain. Now they cruised down a side street, going at a leisurely thirty-two kilometers an hour. Yuffie was leaning up against Reno's side, looking bored and somewhat tired, and Rude was sitting in the back, umbrella open to keep the sun off of his head. 

"You'd think some hot-shot biker punk with something to prove would have seen the damn umbrella already," Reno sighed. He looked over his shoulder at Rude, thought a moment, and then made a decision. "Partner, twirl it. You're not screaming 'nancy-boy' hard enough."

Rude gave Reno a silent, flat stare for a moment. "No."

"Aww," Yuffie snickered, not moving from her position against Reno's side. "Is widdle Wude afwaid of the scawy men thinking he's got no mascuwinity?"

"Don't even go there," Reno advised her quietly. "He headbutted the last guy who insinuated that he was my boyfriend, remember?"

Yuffie squinted in concentration for a second, then nodded. "Yeah. We were on the beach at Costa Del Sol, and someone thought it'd be funny to ask Rude if he was alone or if I'd stolen his date."

Making an effort to keep a grin off of his face, Reno asked, "You remember the guy's name?"

"Materazzi," Rude replied.

"Right, right. Wasn't he trying to sue you when we left?"

"He gave up after a call from Tseng, or so Elena tells me."

Reno gave a small _oh_ of tacit understanding, and it was then that he saw the approaching bikers.

They were Orochimaru, all right; the three of them all wore jackets with the red, coiled serpent on them. What immediately caught Reno's attention, however, was the bike that the one in the lead was riding.

_I nearly got run over by it last night. That's Makoto's bike or my hair's blue._

"That's Makoto's bike," Yuffie said abruptly.

Reno nodded, his grin widening. "I thought so, too. Looks like our bad ol' biker pal lost his ride when he got drunk last night, eh, partner?"

"Think we should return it to him?" Rude asked.

"Idea," Yuffie butted in.

Easing off of the gas, Reno replied, "They _are_ coming straight at us and there's no room to swerve. You got an idea, you have ten seconds."

"We not only grab the jackets for the big heist tonight, but we take the bike too and return it to Makoto – for a price."

"Go on." Surreptitiously, Reno began to toe the brake. He didn't want any more swerving collisions in this car, especially not on a street narrow enough that he'd probably take off the fender if he pulled a drift.

"In exchange for his bike, he has to go on a double date with us! You and me, him and Rei."

"Yuffie, you're insane."

"Hit the brake," Rude interjected calmly. Reno took his advice and brought the car to a stop, which was easy enough when he was only going thirty kilometers an hour. As he'd hoped, the bikers pulled up to a stop in front of them and dismounted, shooting one another significant looks.

"There a problem?" Reno asked.

"Yeah," the leader sneered. He was a young Wutainese man of average height, though his build suggested considerable exercise. The knife scar on his face was self-inflicted, though. _Stupid punk cut himself to look cool_. "What you're doin' is trespasin', and we Orochimaru don't take real kindly to trespassers. We're willin' to overlook this in exchange for a favor."

Reno shrugged. "Go on." He laid his right hand on Yuffie's left when she unconsciously began to drum her fingers on his knee. _Easy, sugar._

The three bikers strolled up to the car and leaned nonchalantly against the sides – one of them next to Reno, one next to where Yuffie would be sitting if she wasn't slouched against Reno's side, and one next to Rude, who was sitting on the right side of the back seat, umbrella still open.

Fortunately enough, the leader was the one who took up position next to Reno. "You drive a busted-ass vehicle, so we ain't got no interest in your car… and you don't look none too rich, either."

Reno gave another shrug, more nonchalant than the one before. "We get by."

"So there's really only one thing we'd be interested in now." The man's gaze slipped off of Reno and settled on Yuffie, who returned the gaze and blinked sleepily, as though only half-awake. It was an intensely sexy look, one that Reno didn't know the ninja-girl was capable of pulling off, and he fought the urge to moisten his lips.

"What would that be?" Yuffie asked, her voice a low, lusty whisper.

The biker's leer increased, showing a rather unpleasant set of yellow teeth. "You know what we want, legs. Take it off."

Not a quarter second later, Reno gave him an uppercut that ground the man's jaw shut and wiped the sneer – as well as any conscious expression – clear off of his face. The sound of grinding teeth was loud and unpleasant, through it was obvious that the sound wasn't the only unpleasant part of the experience.

The other two bikers barely had time to react before they were taken out, too. Yuffie pushed off of Reno like he was a red-headed springboard and took her biker out in a wild tackle that ended in his head hitting the pavement with a satisfying crack. Rude swung his umbrella around so the opened canopy was behind his biker's head, the shaft pressed against his neck, and then the Turk pulled, hard. The result was by far the most unpleasant sound to grace the trio's ears: the lovely wet crunch of Rude's forehead breaking the man's nose.

"Damn," Reno observed as Rude disentangled his umbrella from the insensate biker, who slumped to the ground a moment afterwards. "Materazzi had it easy."

Yuffie picked herself up off of the biker she'd taken out and dusted herself off. "That was fun. We oughta do this more often."

With a quiet, satisfied chuckle, Reno sighed and said, "Damn, Yuffie, do I love you." He turned his attention back to Rude too quickly to see the momentary slackness that overcame Yuffie's features. Rude saw it and made a note of it, but said nothing. "Rude, you wanna take the bike?"

"Sure."

"Alright. Yuffie and I'll get the jackets."

When he looked at her again, the ninja-girl was grinning from ear to ear, busily stripping the jacket off of her motionless biker. Reno opened the car door and stepped out, shut it behind him, then bent down and began to retrieve his own jacket. He heard Rude doing the same thing behind him, and had just gotten the jacket off when he realized that the biker was waking up.

"Apologies, but we're taking Makoto's bike back," Reno said lightly. "Not that I really care for the guy, but I'd rather see him riding this beauty than you." When all that produced was an insolent, dazed grin, Reno frowned slightly and slapped the man across the face. "You still in there, buddy, or did I jam a molar a teensy bit too high in that soupy head of yours?"

_That_ got a wheezing laugh. "You got… no idea," the biker mumbled, his leer returning to display several chipped teeth from Reno's uppercut. "We got the bike from him… last night. Boss says we can impress our supplier… if we finish the job."

Reno stopped grinning and hauled the biker up by the collar of his tee-shirt. "You're serious?"

The leer widened. "Right about now, red, eight of our best guys are beatin' the everlivin' shit out of Makoto."

* * *

Rei had finally dropped off to sleep half an hour after Reno, Rude, and Yuffie had left. Now she was faintly aware of it having been some time when she heard another knock on the door. 

_Dammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammit_.

Slowly, inexorably, she pulled herself out of what had been shaping up to be a very pleasant dream. Inspecting herself to make sure that she was decent, Rei stepped out into the hallway, passed the room where Makoto was still sleeping, descended the stairs, and went up to the door.

Sliding it open, she was confronted with eight men, all wearing Orochimaru jackets, and all of them armed with _liuye dao_ broadswords.

"Afternoon," the one closest sneered. "We was told that a man by the name of Makoto was stayin' here. Would you be so gen'rous as to confirm that?"

"There's nobody by that name here," Rei replied, struggling to keep her tone even. "I can fetch Grandpa Souta if you need me to."

"Don't bullshit us. We had two of our people watching when the stupid bastard staggered in here, and they saw you open the goddamned door for him. He hasn't left, so he's gotta still be here."

The biker stepped inside before Rei could reply and kept walking forward until Rei was backed up against the wall of the hallway. His features twisted into some semblance of a grin and he moved to within inches of the geisha. "But seein' as how you say he's not here, we've come a long way fer nothin'. It'd be a shame if we left without gettin' something for our trouble."

Rei felt his hand cross around her waist, seeking her obi, and she retaliated the way Grandpa Souta had trained her: fingers curled flat against the top of the palm, thumb pressed against the side of her hand, she thrust the protruding bone of her wrist into the biker's throat.

He staggered backwards, making a strangled gagging noise, then recovered far faster than Rei had anticipated. "You little _bitch_!" He sprang at her, right hand clenched into a fist, arm drawn back for a blow to her face. "You're going to pay for tha –"

Makoto's flying leap took him in the side and threw him back into his fellows, sending them all tumbling back from the door. The Shinsengumi leader landed deftly in front of Rei and pressed his left hand against her stomach, backing her up to the wall.

Her heart was already pounding, but Rei still felt it speed up when she saw the sheathed sword that Makoto was holding in a reverse grip in his right hand, the sheath pressed up against his arm. He looked over his shoulder at her, and the eye that she could see was blazing with hot rage, visible even through the smooth sepia of his irises.

"Stay back, Rei. They're here for me."

Rei felt her eyes trace up the metal sheath of the sword. Wrought into the steel were the characters _Aku Soku Zan_.

"Swift death to evil," Makoto growled at the Orochimaru bikers as he strode outside. "This will be carried out instantly and without reservation. The great katana Kikuichi-monji of Shiranui-ryū will see it done."

Pounding footsteps sounded, and an instant later Grandpa Souta emerged into the hallway. He took one look at Rei and said, "Makoto." She nodded and pointed out the door, where the eight Orochimaru had drawn their broadswords and surrounded Makoto, who had yet to draw the Kikuichi-monji. People were pulling over on the roads nearby to witness the standoff in Grandpa Souta's compound's front yard – previously little more than ten square meters of grass with a walkway to the front door, now an arena where the biker gangs were going to prove themselves in a field completely outside that of bikes.

"He's not yet in his proper mind," Grandpa Souta muttered. "What a pity."

"That he's not in his proper mind?" Rei asked, confused and understandably frightened.

"No, it's a pity what's about to happen to those men. All the Orochimaru have succeeded in doing by sending them here is producing eight pieces of meat."

The Orochimaru directly behind Makoto struck first, charging forward, _liuye dao_ cocked for a diagonal slash. Makoto spun on the balls of his heels, bringing his right arm up parallel with the ground, snapping the Kikuichi-monji into a forward grip as he did so and disengaging the _tanka_ from the sheath with his thumb. His momentum sent the sheath flying clear of the blade and into the face of one of the Orochimaru who was standing ready, and he continued his motion, whipping around until the fine, honed edge of the sword bit deep into the neck of the charging enemy.

Makoto reversed his momentum, turning in the opposite direction, dislodging the Kikuichi-monji from his dying enemy and bringing it around into the ready stance in time to confront two more charging Orochimaru. He twisted out of the way of a thrust from the closest enemy and cracked the blade across the top of the man's skull as he went past, snapping his wrists to cause the edge to bite into the brain-pan and then freeing it in the next motion. Makoto continued his twisting motion and brought the sword around into a block, parrying the waist-level horizontal swing by the second man, then reversed his grip on the sword again and thrust backwards, expertly slicing open the jugular vein.

_Four down_. Rei only now saw that the Orochimaru who'd been hit by the sheath had taken it in the right eye. He was down and wasn't moving.

The last four charged in one motion, screaming a beleaguered and discordant battle cry as they attempted to rally themselves. Makoto whirled and charged as well, but he kept low to the ground, running in a sort of odd half-crouch –

"He's going for a Heavenly Sword Judgment Strike," Grandpa Souta muttered. "That's the stance."

Rei was about to ask what the hell that meant when she saw Makoto leap out of his running half-crouch and land squarely on the shoulders of one of the Orochimaru, who looked understandably surprised. A moment later he was in the air, at least sixteen feet above the now-staggering biker and his companions, the Kikuichi-monji raised above his head –

And he screamed.

"SHIRANUI-RYŪ: TENKEN CHUSEI!"

He rocketed downwards, the blade moving in a great and terrible arc, and Rei could see spirit energy sparking and flashing about him and his weapon. Makoto returned to earth like a thunderbolt, slamming with tremendous force into the earth, the Kikuichi-monji releasing crashing waves of spirit energy that roared out through the ground and enveloped the Orochimaru.

Nothing but burnt ash remained after the flickering magic flames subsided.

"This is why I've never revealed my mastery of Shiranui-ryū to him," Grandpa Souta whispered in Rei's ear. "Furanui Kenjutsu combines the concept of battle _ki_ and the spirit energy of the world. One trained in it can harness spirit energy limitlessly in order to power the techniques of the style." Rei kept an eye on Makoto, who was slowly rising from the crater his impact had created, and nodded for Grandpa Souta to continue. "But there are side effects. You've heard rumors about Cloud Strife and how he cut down the giant dragon in Edge City. They're all true; he was using spirit energy to empower himself. The only reason he was capable of such feats with it is because he was exposed to mako and injected with Jenova cells – things he told me while I was making the Fenrir for him. Spirit energy is not naturally harmful, but when twisted to be that way it takes a strong body to withstand its energies, and repeated use will wear down anyone short of an ex-SOLDIER."

As if on cue, Makoto fell to one knee, grasping the hilt of the Kikuichi-monji to keep himself from falling over. Rei made to rush out, but Grandpa Souta caught her by the arm and restrained her. "He wouldn't let you help him. Better that you respect his moment of weakness and allow him to deal with it himself."

Rei narrowed her eyes slightly and jerked her arm out of the old mechanic's grip. "I'll decide if and when I'll help him, thanks."

Makoto gave a sharp gasp when he began to straighten again and felt pain lance through his chest. He braced himself on the Kikuichi-monji and started to try again when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Looking up, he found himself staring into Rei's amethyst eyes.

"It's okay, Makoto," she said softly. "Thank you."

Another flash of pain. Makoto grimaced and then banished the expression from his face, replacing it with a pained grin. "It was nothing."

Rei grabbed him by the shoulder and hauled him up. His chest protested, but he wasn't about to lash out at her for her kindness. "It was not nothing," she replied sternly. "There's no telling what those creeps would've done if you hadn't intervened when you did."

Finding that he could stand now, Makoto plucked the Kikuichi-monji from the ground and moved to the body of the man who'd taken the sheath in the eye. He grabbed hold of the sheath and pulled sharply, disengaging it with a loud sucking sound. Distastefully, Makoto withdrew a cloth from his pants pocket and ran it over the blade, then the tip of the sheath, before replacing the Kikuichi-monji inside it.

"So, Makoto, you couldn't have done this somewhere else?" Grandpa Souta asked as he stepped outside, looking distastefully at the blood on his lawn.

Makoto rubbed at his temples with his free hand before answering. "They were here to kill me, Grandpa Souta. What _should_ I have done?"

"You should have done me the courtesy of spilling their blood on someone else's lawn!" the old mechanic snapped. "It's going to take forever to –"

He broke off as he felt a raindrop land square on his head.

"Never mind. Come inside and I'll summon the police."

* * *

Fifteen minutes after they'd acquired the Orochimaru uniforms and gotten Makoto's bike back, Reno roared around a corner and came to a stop in front of Grandpa Souta's compound. He put the car into park without bothering to shut it off and began to charge towards the front door until Yuffie grabbed him by his ponytail. 

"Slow down!"

"_Shit_, don't _do_ that!"

Rude brought Makoto's bike to a halt behind them and said, "Reno, look."

Stopping his efforts to disengage his hair from Yuffie's impish grasp, Reno looked around and saw two things: first, the fresh, wet blood on the grass, being quickly dissolved by the rain, and second, the two police cars parked across the street.

"If we rush in the cops'll probably shoot us," Yuffie chastised him. "One way or the other, everything's under control. We'll just have to see."

Reno blew out a sigh and replied, "Fine. We never get to have any _fun_."

Sliding out of the car on Reno's side, Yuffie giggled quietly and whispered in his ear, "We'll have 'fun' later."

Rude, his expression a carefully studied shade of neutral, watched the ninja-girl bounce along the path to the front door, then turned his gaze to Reno, who was standing very still, watching Yuffie move. "You must have said something to make her _very_ happy," Rude observed idly as he retrieved his umbrella.

"Apparently I did. Now I just have to figure out _what_."

* * *

"We're real sorry to keep interrupting you like this," Reno said to Grandpa Souta, five minutes later, seated in his kitchen. Yuffie was seated next to him, and Rude was standing behind their chairs, both hands on the handle of his umbrella, which was balanced against the floor on its tip. 

Across the table, Grandpa Souta made a dismissive gesture, while Rei was making Makoto, humorously enough, drink a tall glass of orange juice. She'd explained briefly what had happened to the police while Reno, Yuffie and Rude listened. The police had left shortly afterwards, as Rei's story flew and there were more than a dozen witnesses who testified that the Orochimaru had struck first with lethal intent.

"Nothing to be concerned about. Makoto took care of the attackers most admirably." Grandpa Souta looked none too happy with the whole affair, but Reno could read the relief in his voice. _Better that eight no-good gangsters got killed than anyone here_.

Makoto, on the other hand, looked borderline cheerful. He still grimaced slightly when he moved, but a shot from the Cure materia that Tseng kept stored under the car seat had done wonders for him. Now he was finishing the orange juice at Rei's insistence and his gaze lingered on Yuffie.

"By the way, Makoto," Reno said, loudly enough that both Yuffie and Rude knew that the direction of Makoto's eyes was bothering him. "We picked up your bike off of some Orochimaru… _friends_. We think you'd like it back."

The Shinsengumi leader set down the now-empty glass and nodded. His expression was neutral, and he was evidently in much better control of himself now that he'd slept a bit. "Yes, I would. Is it outside?"

"Yeah, but it's got a price tag on it," Yuffie said with a grin before Reno could reply. "And it's pretty steep."

Makoto closed his eyes and inhaled slowly before asking, "What is it?"

"A double date."

The sepia eyes snapped open. "What?"

"A double date. Me and Reno, you and Rei. We'll go out to dinner somewhere and then go clubbing."

Now the eyes narrowed. "Are you trying to accomplish something with this, Yuffie?"

"Maybe," the ninja-girl replied coyly. "If you're not willin' to indulge me, though, I understand."

Reno exchanged a sideways look with Rude and suppressed a grin. _She has him by the jewels, and they're not the ones he keeps in his safe_.

None of them failed to notice the hopeful excitement that was drawing itself on Rei's features in the form of a twitching smile that she'd tried to restrain but failed.

"All right."

Yuffie gave a delighted half-squeal, half-cackle and stood. "Great! Look out, Wutai, here we come!"

"I'll send the evacuation order," Reno said dryly.


	10. Chapter X

What is the sound of one hand clapping?

Fwish, fwish.

Chapter X!

* * *

Reno, Yuffie, and Rude waited outside beneath the awning of Grandpa Souta's compound for Makoto and Rei to get ready. As both of them had literally just gotten out of bed when the Orochimaru attacked, they had obviously not been dressed to go out to dinner and then go dancing or drinking. The rain continued to pour down, invisible until it hit you in the inky post-dusk blackness of the night.

"And you're really, really positive that we couldn't be doing something productive instead of going out?" Reno asked Yuffie.

"Since when have you _objected_ to going out?" Yuffie asked teasingly.

"Well, there _was_ that one restaurant in Costa Del Sol…"

"You just didn't want to go into it because you know the girl running it – _very well_, as a matter of fact."

"It was from years ago, before you and I knew one another. Besides, she was cute."

"She was also _real_ happy to see you, I remember that much. So much so that she actually tried to strangle me when she saw that I was your girlfriend."

Reno grinned broadly and stretched. "I can't help it if she found me irresistible."

With a mock scowl, Yuffie flicked Reno's forehead and he mimed jerking back as though taking a bullet to the head. "Keep it up and you'll end up falling in love with your own reflection."

Several feet away, by the front door, Rude was tapping out a message on his cell with one hand, his umbrella in the other. Reno noticed the cell when he recovered from the so-called headshot and asked, "What's up, partner?"

"Sending a message."

"To who?"

"Rufus. Telling him that Shin-Ra should adopt the manufacturers of my umbrella for all employees' umbrella needs."

"An' why would Rufus care about something like that?"

"I was in contact with them earlier and they agreed to hire me as a spokesman when we get back to Edge. They have a branch there and they want a suit to point the cameras at."

Reno raised an eyebrow. "I thought it wasn't allowed for us to take on secondary jobs while we're Turks, Rude."

"Funny, because I thought it wasn't allowed for you to wear goggles or leave your suit unbuttoned."

"Technicalities! Those aren't even on the same level! And Elena wears heels, even on assignments!"

"I also thought it wasn't allowed for us to make payments in the boss's name, especially for bikes that'll probably be so expensive you can retire on the cash used to buy them."

"_But_ there's a clause in our contracts saying we can make forced requisitions of the items or property of others when necessary."

"Everything in our contracts pertains to when we're on duty. We're on leave."

Reno opened his mouth and then clicked it shut, then opened it again and said, "We're still on duty, though, technically. This is a paid vacation, after all."

"No, it's leave, meaning no paycheck for it. Paid vacation is reserved for the active leader of the Turks – namely, Tseng."

For a moment Rude looked as though he was going to say something more, but then he saw Yuffie staring at him openmouthed and shut up.

"What is it, Yuffie?" Reno asked.

"Rude's talking more in one streak than I've ever heard in my life."

"And precisely how long have you been traveling with Rude?"

That caught her off guard, much to Reno's rather perverse satisfaction. The ninja-girl started to speak, cut herself off, stared at an indeterminate point past Reno's head for a moment in thought, and then crossed her arms over her chest and stuck her tongue out at him.

Suppressing a smile, Reno set his face into a calculated display of pompous superiority and harrumphed. "I say, partner! It appears that the pink ninja-tongue has revealed itself, poking out of its abode for a moment to scent the air!"

Yuffie sucked her tongue back in faster than Reno could laugh at his own brilliance – and that didn't take much time. "It might be feral. Better be careful, sugar."

Crackling his knuckles, Reno strode up to her and said, "No worries, ma'am. I'm trained in the subtle art of ninja-tongue capture."

Right on cue, Yuffie stuck her tongue out again and Reno struck, grabbing it between his thumb and forefinger. She squealed and tried to pull her tongue back into her mouth, but Reno shook his head and her and _tsked_. "What ho! It seems that I've captured it! A magnificent specimen, wouldn't you agree, partner?"

Rude looked from Reno to Yuffie and then back. "Let's kill it."

That made Reno laugh, which in turn made him let go of Yuffie's tongue, which in turn sent her tumbling backwards when her tenacious efforts to retrieve her tongue were suddenly rendered void and all the energy put into freeing it was now put into making her fall on her rump.

"Reno?" Her voice was sweet and innocent.

"Yes, m'lady?" Reno asked, struggling to contain the laughter that threatened him.

"The. Ground. Is. WET!"

That killed him. Reno doubled over laughing, which prompted Yuffie to firmly plant a foot in his stomach and send him falling over backwards. Rude watched his partner haul himself into a sitting position, soaking all down his back, and jump on top of Yuffie with a half-shout, half-laugh and start rolling around on the wet concrete with her.

He shifted slightly as they rolled in front of the door, nearly bumping into his ankle, and Makoto and Rei chose that moment to slide open the door and try to step outside.

Fortunately, Makoto was a tad faster than Rei, so he threw his arm out in front of her to stop her from stepping on Reno, being thrown, and falling face-first in the water outside. That meant that she ran into what was essentially a length of taut steel cable, rebounded, and started to fall backwards before Makoto threw _himself_ backwards and caught her.

Reno and Yuffie stopped their tussle when they realized what had happened and hurriedly got to their feet. Both of them were soaking.

Rude made eye contact with Makoto, jerked his head at the man's motorcycle, and tossed him the umbrella. "You'll need it, and need it returned." He turned to Reno and Yuffie. "I'm driving. Both of you sit in the back."

* * *

Karsk ignored the rain washing over his body and focused on his opponent. Arcturus was – had been – the heavy-weapons specialist of the unit, and years of hefting heavy assault rifles and explosives had given him a powerful, if not particularly magnificent, physique. He was big, and rather paunchy around the middle from too many years of eating good Wutainese cuisine, but for every half-kilogram of fat there were three kilos of muscle, and he weighed a solid one hundred and twelve kilograms.

The Sub-General himself had been an unarmed combat trainer in his spare time. He had fifty-nine years under his belt, true, but he kept himself every bit as hard as he'd been when he was thirty years younger – though his muscles protested every repetition beneath the weights more and more these days. Oftentimes Karsk would tell himself that he was simply getting old, and that he was never going to be as on top of his game as he'd been in his twenties… or his thirties…

That was before the silver-haired young man, though.

Arcturus nodded to Karsk and charged, feet grinding into the mud of the condominium's small backyard. They could have practiced indoors, true, but Karsk liked the feeling of washing mud off of himself after a long brawl, whether it be for real or training. It reminded him, somewhat eschatologically, of self-purification. _Sink ye into the mud, burdened by your sins, and I shalt free you_. His parents had been the last of a long line of worshippers of some deity called Neyov – the religion apparently stretched back a very long time, and had gone through rough days back when the world was young.

If it had ever _been_ young.

Karsk faded back from Arcturus' initial punch, letting the clenched fist taste the wet air and the raindrops that would have hit Karsk on the bridge of his nose. He pulled himself into a crouch and sprang forward, scoring a one-two on Arcturus' not-quite-rock-solid abdominals before passing him by. The big man didn't give any indication of having noticed the blows, instead pulling about to his left to bring his hand around for a momentous backhanded slap that almost took Karsk completely by surprise. Fortunately, the Sub-General knew that crushing slaps were a favorite move of Arcturus' and anticipated it, pulling up his right elbow and grinding it into the palm of the incoming hand.

_I have a dispatch from the General_.

The follow-up blow from Arcturus went wide and earned him a kick to his forehead – not a proper kick, of course, but one delivered with the top of the foot, the closest thing to a slap that could be given with the legs and feet. They weren't fighting to kill one another, after all.

He remembered vividly how fast the young man had taken him down. He hadn't even bothered pulling his odd, double-bladed katana – Karsk had taken four blows to the chest in two seconds and hit the dirt, clutching at his ribs. The pain had been glorious; it let him know he was still alive, even though he'd seen his opponent – Kadaj, that was the name – bust through a brick wall to allow himself access to the backyard of Karsk's condominium.

"Good match, Sarge," Arcturus grunted. "Three clean hits on me, one block. Want to go another round?"

Karsk shook his head. "Thank you, Arcturus, but no. I feel…"

_The General has a mission for you_, Kadaj had said.

"…like eating out. Is the Scarlet Monastery still open?"

* * *

Reno, no longer dripping but still a bit damp, seated himself next to Yuffie and took another look around. The restaurant – the Scarlet Monastery – was done up in extravagant scarlet hues with black ornamentation, and rested at the base of the immense Da Chao statue carved into the very living rock of the Wutainese cliffside.

Naturally, it was expensive as hell.

Across from Reno and Yuffie, Makoto and Rei took their seats. The waitress that had shown them to their table handed them menus and said, "Our special for tonight is basted bull testicles on a spicy noodle base."

"Great as it sounds, I think I'll pass," Reno replied with a weak smile. "If I feel like eating a bull's balls, you'll be the _first_ to know."

The waitress favored him with an acid smile and informed them that another waitress by the name of Ziyi would see to their needs shortly, then turned and walked away. Reno could hear her mutter _foreigner_ under her breath as she did so.

"Love you too, sweetheart," he called before beginning to peruse the menu. "So, Makoto, those balls any good?"

Yuffie suppressed a snort and Rei covered her mouth and nose with her sleeve for a moment, her eyes betraying her smile. Makoto stared levelly at Reno before replying, "Bull testicles are not a favorite dish of mine. I prefer plain _soba_ with pork."

"How d'you _handle_ them, though? I mean, they're probably enormous."

This time Yuffie had to bury her face in her napkin and breathe in short gasps, shoulders shaking with the effort not to laugh, and Rei, who had taken a sip of water, started coughing into her sleeve.

"Chopsticks."

"There's an idea. Say, maybe you could help me with my grip…"

Yuffie started hyperventilating, she was trying so hard not to laugh.

* * *

Rude, as befit the role of uninvolved chaperone-driver – to say nothing of the fact that he wasn't hungry – was leaning on the side of the car, umbrella keeping him dry, when he saw another car pull up into the space next to him.

The Turk paid it no particular attention until Sub-General Karsk folded himself and his slate-grey umbrella out of it and saw him. "Oh, Mr. Rude. Fancy meeting you here."

Peering at Karsk through the rain, Rude could see that the aged Sub-General was wearing the quasi-military fatigues that he'd been in when first introduced by Godo. He was apparently alone, as nobody else got out of the car.

"Going to have dinner there?" Rude asked.

"I was, but if my guess is correct, Lady Kisaragi and your partner are inside. I don't want to disturb their evening." Checking his watch, Karsk went on, "I know a pub nearby, within walking distance, that opens only at night – it should be open by now. They serve good saké and sushi. Care to join me?"

Rude checked his own watch and estimated that Reno, Yuffie, Makoto and Rei would be eating for an hour at the least, if not more. His partner could always call his cell if he needed him, anyway.

"Sounds like a plan. You buying?"

Karsk snorted. "Of course. I don't invite people to go drinking with me and expect them to pay."

"Lead the way, then."

* * *

Reno dug eagerly into the meal on his plate. It was a huge assortment of spicy noodles, peppers, greens, and the occasional peanut. Its name was also unpronounceable by the human tongue, or so he claimed.

Yuffie was digging into a simpler meal – roast duck and rice – while Makoto was eating, just as he'd said, plain _soba_ and pork. Rei was eating what passed for a salad, along with noodles that were fried into long, crispy strands.

Much to Yuffie's surprise, to say nothing of her relief, Reno demonstrated admirable skill with his chopsticks, which was good due to the fact that the restaurant no longer offered forks. _More isolationist bullshit_, Reno thought. _If you can't bar the foreigners entry, make 'em use utensils they got no experience with_.

"Everything to your satisfaction?"

Reno swallowed hot noodles and peppers and replied, "Yeah, thanks, Ziyi. Great stuff."

The waitress, a petite black-haired thing of five and a half feet, smiled and observed, "You're very deft with chopsticks for a foreigner, sir."

"Long story. Can I get another glass of wine?"

The girl nodded and faded back into the restaurant. Immediately Yuffie commented, "At this rate, soon enough we won't even have 'foreign' wines in restaurants. It's just _stupid_."

"She raised an interesting point, though," Rei said pleasantly, obviously trying to deflect the subject towards something more pleasant. "How is it that you've experience with chopsticks, Reno?"

"Killed a man with a pair of them once," Reno replied around a mouthful of noodles. "Like I said, long story."

Rei smiled shakily and did not pursue the subject.

"Where're we going after we finish here?" Yuffie asked. "Any ideas, Makoto?"

"There's a pub by the name of the Drunken Fisher King a short distance from here. We can get a few drinks – _real _drinks – and decide what to do from there."

"Perfect," Reno affirmed. "I'll outdrink your ass any day of the week, buddy!"

Makoto shook his head condescendingly at Reno and gave him a serpent's smile. "I do beg to differ."

* * *

Rude knocked back another cup of saké and gave an approving _hmm_. "Good choice, Karsk."

Karsk, who looked only slightly inebriated at this point, popped some fish eggs into his mouth and chewed appreciatively. "The saltiness of the eggs is in marked contrast to the harshness of the saké – beautiful." He raised his cup of saké and Rude lifted the one he'd just poured for himself.

"_A saké barrel, born without hands, makes merry – cherry blossom time_," Karsk quoted.

"Hear, hear," Rude said. They tipped the saké glasses against one another and then drank.

Karsk looked at his watch. "We've been drinking for about an hour… time to move on, I think."

Raising an eyebrow, Rude asked, "Why?"

"I don't like staying in one place for very long – I told you that. Part of having been a soldier." Karsk heaved himself to his feet, ate a few more fish eggs, and motioned for Rude to follow him. "They serve a good beef hot-pot down at the Kanbe-ya."

"An inn?"

"Yes, but they know me there. Good place to rent a room if you want to get away from it all for a night, too."

Rude nodded. "I figure Reno and Yuffie will want her house to themselves tonight. Sounds good to me – but I'll pay for the room."

Now it was Karsk's turn to raise an eyebrow. "You don't mind sharing a room?"

"No."

Something in Karsk's expression crumbled slightly, and he abruptly looked very old and tired. "If only there were more people in the world like you, Mr. Rude." He stared at his feet for a moment, then shook his head and sucked in a deep breath. "Let's head out, no?"

* * *

Reno, Yuffie, Makoto, and Rei arrived at the Drunken Fisher King shortly after concluding their meal at the Scarlet Monastery. All of them were feeling fairly full, but they still ordered some sushi to go with their saké.

Pulling down a cup of saké, Reno gave a short whoop and poured himself some more. "_Damn_ good stuff. Wish we had it back in Edge."

"Wutai stopped exporting rice wines to foreign cities shortly after Yuffie left," Makoto replied, looking and sounding more mellow now that he had alcohol in him. "I'm afraid that things are only going to get worse, not better."

Reno eyed the biker leader skeptically. "You nearly go to town on my ass for being a foreigner last night, and now you're booing isolationism? You're a piece of work."

Taking a deep breath – and another shot of saké – Makoto replied, "Look. If this marriage thing continues, we're eventually going to end up on opposite sides. For now, though, let me say that I'm sorry for what happened. Tensions have been high in the city, and regardless of how I might want to stay above the baser trends going through the population I can't avoid them completely – especially after my parents were killed by your company's army in the war. I'll always have a stigma towards foreigners, but that's no excuse for how I acted – especially not in the alleyway."

Yuffie and Rei kept silent while Reno leaned back in his seat, looking very much the part of man who had been put in an important position and was relishing it. He shifted in his seat and said, "I figure we'll end up on opposite sides, true – but that doesn't mean we can't respect one another. You're a better guy than I am to apologize like that, and I can't turn it down. Both of us have got old prejudices."

Slowly, Reno and Makoto leaned forward and shook hands.

"Yuffie's still mine," Reno added with a grin that Makoto returned, contentiously.

"I have an idea," Yuffie chirped, looking ecstatic that her plan had actually worked. "Drink for me. The guy whose head doesn't hit the table first gets a kiss."

The redheaded Turk and the black-haired biker looked at one another, then at Yuffie, then back at one another.

"You're on," Makoto laughed.

* * *

Rude repositioned himself on the floor mat, trying to get comfortable in the bedrobe the Kanbe-ya had provided. Karsk looked to be asleep on the mat across the room, but Rude could hear the man's slightly irregular breathing and knew that he was awake.

"Rude? Are you still awake?"

"Yeah."

The Turk heard a swallowing sound, and then Karsk asked, "Have you at any point known any young, silver-haired men?"

Rude blinked. He felt naked without his sunglasses, though they rested next to the mat with his umbrella. "Counting Sephiroth or not?"

"Not."

"Yeah, I knew some. Three of 'em. Kadaj, Yazoo, and Loz."

"What were Yazoo and Loz like?"

"Why, did you meet Kadaj?"

"Yes. When he came to Wutai to kidnap the children with Geostigma, I fought with him. He took me down as easily as you would swat a fly… and he mentioned that he had two brothers."

"Didn't really know them. I fought 'em, though," Rude remembered. "Reno took on Yazoo, and I took on Loz. The guy was stronger and hit harder than anyone I'd ever fought." Remembering further, Rude added, "He was kinda like a child."

"The General's children," Karsk murmured.

"What?"

"Nothing. Goodnight, Rude."

"'Night."


	11. Chapter XI

You want to know the best part of Half-Life, the part that I just recently rediscovered?

The _cha-chun_ sound the shotgun makes when you pump it after burying two slugs in the skull of an offending alien grunt.

It's heaven.

There's also a Chapter XI here. It has no shotgun. I must remedy the situation.

* * *

Makoto, having sharp eyes, saw everything that was going on above the table at the Drunken Fisher King. He and Reno had been downing saké for a while now, while Yuffie nibbled on the sushi and Rei smoked a cigarette. Both of the girls watched Reno and Makoto drink, entranced.

What Makoto didn't see was Yuffie's hand on Reno's left thigh, or her index finger, which drew out four letters just above his knee: L, O, S, and E, respectively.

Reno, obviously, betrayed no surprise or emotion and asked no questions. He just kept taking shot after shot of saké, never showing any flicker in his resolve to win until he knocked back another shot of rice wine, reached to refill his cup, and hit the table unconscious.

Humorously enough, Makoto stopped with his own cup of saké halfway to his mouth and stared at Reno for a good minute before saying, "Amazing. I'm not even feeling buzzed yet and he passes out."

Yuffie suppressed a laugh, but his disbelief was not the source of her amusement. During his plummet to the tabletop, Reno had let his left hand flop beneath the table, where it landed, coincidentally, on Yuffie's thigh and quickly conveyed some letters of his own: N, O, T, O, N, G, U, and E.

"Looks like you win," she said to the black-haired biker. "So, stud, what're you waiting for?"

Makoto grinned and began lean across the table. He stopped when his nose ran squarely into Yuffie's outstretched finger.

"Nuh-uh. I think you're drunker than you look. Rei's the one you're kissing."

Reno started abruptly, then quickly covered his relief with a sleepy mutter about damned umbrellas. Apparently Makoto and Rei bought it, because neither of them paid him a second glance. _Damn, Yuffie, you're a genius. I just wish I could see his face right now_.

For a second Makoto stared at her and then began to protest, "But you said that –"

"I asked you and Reno to drink for me, and I said that the winner would get a kiss."

"Exactly!"

Yuffie giggled and pinched Makoto's nose, causing him to draw back indignantly before he could gather his wits. "I asked you to drink _for_ me – like doing me a favor. I never said you were drinking to _win_ me. And I never said who the kiss was coming from, either."

Thunderstruck, Makoto turned from Yuffie to Rei, who had turned a fine shade of pink and was smiling behind her sleeve, which draped over her right hand, while she put out her cigarette with her left. "She has you in a corner, Makoto."

"But –"

"Are you afraid to kiss Rei?"

"No! But –"

"Then do it!"

Makoto looked from Yuffie to Rei. Yuffie had a smug, satisfied smirk on her face, and Rei was smiling coyly, having just taken Makoto's cup of saké and drank it to kill the tang of nicotine on her tongue. She was drumming her fingers on the table in a gesture that clearly said _I'm waiting_.

Appearing to make up his mind, Makoto swallowed, visibly steeled himself, and leaned towards Rei.

The geisha's smile widened into a genuine grin and she also leaned forward towards Makoto, taking his head into her hands and tilting it just so –

Out of the corner of his eye, Makoto noticed a glint; he put it down to something moving on the table, realized that was impossible, looked in its direction, and saw one turquoise eye peering out of the shadows of the crook of Reno's arm.

"You CHEAT!"

Yuffie made an irritated noise and smacked Reno across the back of the head. He yelped and covered his head with both hands to ward off further blows. "Sorry! I didn't think he'd be looking!"

Most people would describe the color Makoto's face was turning as a fine shade of purple, and it would not be too far off. "What _is_ this? Are you trying to help Rei _seduce_ me?"

"'Seduce' is such a strong word," Reno drawled. "I prefer the term 'sexily persuade.'"

"What does it matter, though?" Yuffie asked. "Can't you kiss her and still be friends with her? You never really struck me as a one-woman guy, Makoto."

"An' at this rate you'll be back to zero," the redhead added.

Makoto protested, "It's not that. I certainly could kiss Rei and remain friends with her – but it would be a lie! The ideal of the platonic relationship is impossible to maintain when there's sexuality involved!"

With a slap to her forehead, Yuffie blew out a long sigh and then said, "Makoto, would you _look_ at her? She's way prettier than I am. 'S matter of fact that she's sexier, too. Could you be any more dense? You've basically lived with her your entire life, doesn't that mean that you have a deep and unique relationship with her?"

"Yes – I mean no!" Makoto looked less angry and more flustered, while Rei sat mutely beside him, eyes fixed on her hands, which lay lifeless in her lap. "It's not the same, Yuffie. I am in love with _you_!"

"You really, really sure about that?" Reno asked the bike gang leader. "What would you do for her?"

"I would kill for her," Makoto replied without hesitation.

"Alright then, who _would_ you kill?" Intensity blazed in Reno's turquoise eyes. "Would you kill Karsk, to make sure you're the only suitor?" He didn't bother mentioning Rufus; no doubt Godo would send messengers out to Karsk and Makoto the next day to inform them of the development.

"I would never do something so low… but Karsk is not in love with Yuffie. I can tell that much."

"Of course not, he's _gay_. And he sure as hell isn't willing to kill for her. But you haven't really answered my question, have you?" Reno jerked a thumb at himself. "Would you kill me for her?"

No words came to Makoto. He simply sat silently, frowning, unable to answer the question.

"What about…" Reno stopped to consider for a moment, then leaned forward and whispered in his ear. "What about… _Rei_?"

Makoto violently sat straight up, accidentally banging his head against Reno's, who pulled back with a slightly miffed expression. "Never!"

"You really sure about that?"

"Of course! Rei means… she means…"

"Too much to you."

With a glare, Makoto snapped, "It's not the same, Reno. Yuffie and Rei aren't comparable."

"I say we are," Yuffie interrupted, "'cause I think I sure as hell can decide who you can compare me to and who you can't. Is it too much to say that you love Rei, Makoto? The way you might love a sister?"

Makoto looked down for a moment into the cup of saké sitting in front of him before replying. "I can't say that I love her as I would a sister, because she never has been a sister to me. Siblings fight and feud; Rei and I never have."

"And what does that tell you about what you feel for one another?" Yuffie pressed.

Angrily, Makoto downed the saké and licked his lips. "Is this really the time and place to discuss this?"

Yuffie looked as though she was going to speak further, but Rei, silent all this time, held up a hand. "I appreciate what you two are trying to do, but Makoto is right. This conversation is best held elsewhere."

They all exchanged glances and slightly reticent nods, then paid their bill and left.

"Rude's probably gotten tired of waiting out in the rain," Reno observed. "I'd say he's back at your place, Yuffie." He looked over his shoulder at Makoto and Rei. "You guys heading back to Grandpa Souta's place?"

"I don't much feel like it, no," Makoto replied. "If you like, there's an inn nearby – the Kanbe-ya. Good rooms, well-priced; you two can have privacy for the evening, and Rei and I can get some sleep."

"Sounds good," Yuffie yawned, stretching languorously. "It's been a long day."

* * *

The moment after Reno and Yuffie stepped into the room they'd gotten for the night, Reno checked his watch and announced, "It's about half an hour to midnight. I figure now's as good a time as any to go plant the Leviathan materia in Karsk's compound."

Yuffie flopped down onto one of the floor mats. "You want me to come? Just give me a minute and I'll be up an' about."

"Probably not a good idea for you to come with, sugar. It might be _dangerous_."

The ninja-girl hauled herself into a sitting position and snorted. "You really are lame sometimes, Reno. You think I'd wanna miss a dangerous night op with my boyfriend?"

"Might compromise the mission if the monks find us in the middle of tempestuous passion on the floor in front of the shrine," Reno laughed.

"We'll get to that part after we plant the materia," she replied, waggling a finger at him. "The temple's still a temple, after all. It's a fifty-fifty chance that Seiryū is real, and not just a summoned creature, so it's better to not piss him off."

"The Great Ninja Yuffie, scared of blasphemy? Next thing you know I'll get struck by lightning."

Yuffie raised an eyebrow. "You looking to tempt Fate, Reno?"

He plopped himself down next to her and said, "Sure, why not? After all, if we're talking fifty-fifty chances, there's one that the lightning bolt might hit you instead of me."

Giggling at that, Yuffie drew him into a kiss, thinking that if they really were struck by lightning it wouldn't be all that bad. A moment after Reno began to warm up, she disengaged and put a finger to his lips, trying not to grin too widely.

"Something the matter with my breath?" he asked, looking confused.

"Not at all. But isn't it the motto of the Turks to put business before pleasure?"

"That's motto number two. Motto number one is to shoot them before they shoot you."

"Fair enough. But we do have business – two pieces of it, actually."

Reno began to ask what the second might be, then caught on and kissed her again.

* * *

"So, here we are," Rei sighed quietly.

She and Makoto had gotten the room one over from Reno and Yuffie's – the man at the desk had said a pair of gentlemen had rented the one in between. Now she stared up at the unfamiliar ceiling in the dark, eyes searching the wood for some semblance of familiarity.

Makoto was across the room from her, curled up on his side. His breathing seemed steady, but Rei heard the hitch in it when she spoke. A geisha's training wasn't limited to dance and how to be beautiful, after all.

"Mm."

"I should apologize for earlier," Rei found herself saying. "I had some inkling of what Yuffie was planning to do."

"You did, did you?" Makoto rolled over and looked at her, slightly adjusting his bedrobe. "How?"

_Should I_? At length, Rei decided that it was best for him to know. _If I'm to ever make it possible, he has to know._ "Yuffie promised me that she'd get you to… _notice_ me."

A slight lowering of the brows brought a cooler, more calculated expression to Makoto's face. "I see. If she wants me out of the picture she could always just choose to marry Karsk."

"No, that's not it. She likes you, but she doesn't want to marry you any more than she wants to marry Karsk. She doesn't understand how you can be in love with her when you barely know her." Hesitating, Rei added, "And neither do I."

Makoto rolled back over, away from her. "You wouldn't understand."

Something within Rei gave way, and she sat up and slammed an open palm down on the floor. "Wouldn't I? You'll never know unless you give me a chance to try to understand! You've never given me any sort of chance, Makoto, and this is as good a place as any to start!"

_That_ got his attention. He, too, sat up and stared at her. "What are you saying?"

"We'll talk about that later. Give me a chance. Make me understand what's possessed you to fall in love with a girl you only met once previously, when you were still a child."

Drawing a long breath before replying, Makoto finally said, "She represents… a sort of ideal. Independence through power and self-ability. Yuffie's never let herself be pressured into a role she doesn't want. Just _looking _at her, you can tell that."

"So you're in love with her because she represents an _ideal_? What is _wrong_ with you?"

The fire in Rei's tone made Makoto start instinctively. "What can you mean?"

"You're not in love with Yuffie, Makoto," Rei said, her voice half-raging and half-pleading. "You're in love with her ideal. That's all you care about; ideals. Independence, power as a means to an end, _Aku Soku Zan_. You've let them shape your whole life!"

"And what alternative did I have?" Makoto snarled, eyes blazing. "What other forces could I trust to guide me when the war took my parents and my brothers? Grandfather, Father, Mother, Zheng, Jubei…"

His eyes watered and he stared hatefully down at the floor, unable to look at Rei in anger. "Jubei." The corners of his mouth quivered and he looked back up at Rei, his expression no longer angry but instead intensely sad. "He taught me about loyalty and devotion, Rei. He taught me to honor Father and Mother, and help little Zheng, and support the country, and to be pious and filial. And he taught me courage – and honor. I watched him ride out to meet Sephiroth in the open field, just after the silver-haired demon killed the late Lady Kisaragi. He was intent on retrieving the materia of Seiryū, even if it cost him his life, and Sephiroth slaughtered him." Makoto swiped furiously at his eyes, angered that they would betray him like this. "What else can I do besides follow his example?"

Regretting that she'd brought the subject up with him, Rei disentangled her legs from her bedsheets and moved to his side, gently placing her hands on his shoulders. "There was nothing you could have done, Makoto."

His closed fist smashed a splintered dent into the hardwood floor. "Of course there wasn't! I wasn't even ten years old! But I can never let that happen again." The biker looked defiantly at her, almost daring her to comment on the tears that now streamed down his face. "I will never again passively stand by and allow anything I love – whether it be a person or Wutai itself – to fall. I must have the power to stop it from happening."

Makoto froze as Rei wiped his face with the hem of her sleeve. "That's not reasonable, Makoto," she murmured. "You can't be the invulnerable shield for everything. As trite as it sounds, bad things happen, and there's nothing that can be done about it." Gently, she wrapped her arms around him, bringing her hand around to the back of his head and putting it against her shoulder. "Ideals don't make the world better. It's what people do with them that counts."

She felt him shudder at her words, a great wracking movement that moved down his body in a spasmodic wave and ended in a muffled, strangled sob against her neck.

"You…" he whispered. "Have I been wrong this entire time?"

"No," Rei assured him. "You've been doing what you thought was right, and at great personal cost. How could anyone condemn you for that?"

"But… what about…"

_That_. Rei applied a tiny amount of pressure to his shoulders and Makoto moved back slightly, bringing his head up to look at her. "Did you really think I was Yuffie?" Rei asked, softly.

Makoto chewed at his bottom lip for a moment, pain flashing through his sepia eyes. "I was half-conscious at the time," he said, slowly. "I… was faintly aware of a presence – you – by my side. When you began to draw away I reached out and took your arm, and when I opened my eyes I thought I was looking at a divine spirit."

Rei stifled her disbelief before it could surface. This was all truth, insofar as he knew, and Makoto, though he never worshipped at Seiryū's shrine, was a firm believer in the supernatural – what lay beyond magic, beyond the explored realms.

"I thought that surely this must be Yuffie's guardian spirit, or something of that nature, and when you stroked my face… I obviously took it as an invitation. I don't recall much else, except suddenly seeing your face where I thought the spirit's had been and withdrawing abruptly." He blinked several times and took a shuddering breath, then continued. "I didn't allow myself to think on it. I went back and examined everything that I've just now told you, and concluded that I was still delirious… and that I might have –" he swallowed – "tried to take advantage of you."

"_Take advantage_?"

Makoto looked at her hollowly, and he suddenly felt light and frail in her arms. "I don't know what to say, Rei. I have always had feelings for you, but I never wanted to act on them. I thought it was better to fixate myself on someone else, someone who represented something – something –"

"More," Rei finished for him, a statement rather than a question.

He flinched at the word and then nodded. "Yes, more. I thought I could love for a nobler purpose, not for useless lust."

Rei pulled him tighter into her embrace, unconsciously stroking his hair with one hand. "You idiot," she said softly, no hint of accusation in her tone. "Why?"

"In my darkest moments, when reality seemed clearest and harshest, I looked at myself and found nothing of worth. An orphan with grandly spanning ideals and no way to effect them – what could he offer an apprentice geisha who might one day find herself a rich and powerful _danna_, or even a husband? And then, later, after I discovered and studied Shiranui-ryū – what use was it to a geisha? What could a killer, however powerful, give her? In my estimation, that's when I became even more fixated on Yuffie – a girl I could love wholeheartedly, knowing she needed nothing from me because she would have more than I could ever give her."

"And then you painted on your ideals," Rei murmured, continuing to stroke his hair. "Convinced yourself that you were in love with her and not the ideal, which wasn't even the original factor that drew you to her in the first place."

Makoto drew back from Rei and looked at her, no longer crying but instead feeling oddly renewed, as though his very being had just moved through a waterfall – cold and biting, certainly, but cleansing.

"I was right about one thing," he said softly. "I can never give Yuffie anything to match what she, however inadvertently, has given me. I can only imagine what might have never come to pass if she didn't suggest going out tonight, or promise you that she would make me _notice_ you."

"Don't worry about it," Rei replied. "I don't want anything from you, Makoto, except just _you_. Everything else is secondary."

Makoto drew her into a kiss, and all the self-hate and deception that he had built up within himself, like a great fortress around his heart, seemed to be washed away in her tide.

* * *

"Mission accomplished," Yuffie whispered to Reno as they both peered through an almost invisible crack between the wall and the door to Rei's and Makoto's room.

"So you figure he's not going to be looking to marry you anymore?" Reno asked.

Yuffie shrugged. "I dunno what they were talking about, just that they're obviously not playing dumb anymore. I keep my promises – mostly."

They withdrew from the door, moved back into their room, and exited through the window. "Alright," Reno said, tasting the night air with relish. "We pick up the Orochimaru jackets from the dumpster near the temple where we left them, steal the materia, and plant it in Karsk's compound. You sure you're up to this?"

She shot him a look and grinned, her teeth shining in the moonlight. "The old guy wouldn't survive two days as my husband. Let's do him a favor and take him out of the equation, Reno."

Reno wrapped his arm around her shoulders and they exchanged a brief good-luck kiss before they effected semi-genuine drunken swaggers and disappeared into the shadows of nighttime Wutai.


	12. Chapter XII

As stated last week, I am leaving for Pittsburgh. This means that this will be the last regular update of BTILW for a week or so. 'Till we meet again, readers. Chapter XII and a monkey's your uncle.

* * *

_The young man leaned over Karsk, the moonlight streaming through his silver hair. Pain flared out from the Sub-General's chest when he breathed; he was sure that at least three of his ribs were broken._

"_That was foolish, Sub-General Karsk," Kadaj laughed. "And ever so unnecessary, at that. I have a dispatch from the General."_

_Karsk's eyes widened. "That's impossible," he wheezed. "According to my information, the General was killed by Cloud Strife and his fellow AVALANCHE members around the time Meteor was repulsed."_

_Clucking contemptuously, Kadaj waggled a finger at Karsk. "Now, now. There's simply not a lot of time, and to debunk your so-called 'information' would require a hefty sum of it. Suffice it to say that _nii-san_ did not kill Sephiroth as thoroughly as he'd hoped."_

"Nii-san_?" Karsk asked, confused. "Strife is a relation of yours?"_

"_My two brothers and I have countless brethren, all brought together through the memetic legacy of our Mother. You are one of them, Sub-General Karsk."_

_As though he was lifting a sack of grain, Kadaj effortlessly hauled Karsk up by his collar and ripped it open, revealing around Karsk's breastbone the black splotches that were the telltale sign of what the locals in Wutai were calling _seikon shoukougen_, and everyone else was calling Geostigma._

_Its mortality rate was one hundred percent._

_Kadaj set Karsk down squarely on his feet and said, "You have inherited Mother's gift, as well – but the Planet detests you for that. That's why it's trying to kill you."_

_Karsk gaped at the young man, clutching at his chest where fiery pain radiated from his maligned bones. "Your… _mother_ is causing this to happen to me and countless others? Tell her to stop!"_

_Snickering, the young man replied, "It's not so simple, Sub-General. If we're going to beat the Planet and help Mother triumph, we're going to have to use all our resources. The General has a mission for you."_

_The cell at Kadaj's belt caught Karsk's eye. "Can I… can I speak to him?"_

_Kadaj smiled, a poisonous expression that fractionally lifted the corners of his mouth but did nothing for his eyes. "It will be easier, Sub-General, for me to show him to you."_

* * *

Reno and Yuffie ducked through alleyways, weaving between awnings to keep out of the omnipresent downpour. There was no audible thunder nor any visible lightning, but the wind lashed at them and some of the more run-down streets had water up to ankle level.

"Let's hope the temple's quieter!" Yuffie shouted above the roar the rain.

"Let's not!" Reno shouted back. "Things'll be easier if we have the sound of the rain to drown out our movements!"

They'd been moving for about half an hour when they reached the alley at the back of the temple. The dumpster they'd left the Orochimaru jackets in had gone untouched excepting the constant lash of rain.

Pulling open the dumpster lid, Reno found the three jackets floating in a pool of water that had been collecting in the dumpster over the day. He made a face and pulled out two of them, closing the lid on the third one. "Here you go!"

Yuffie took one look at the drenched jacket and shook her head. "No way! I'm already soaked to the bone! I don't need more wet cloth on me!"

"Look, sugar, I –"

The redheaded Turk stopped short and looked at the water streaming through the alleyway at their feet. Yuffie stared at him for a moment and then asked, "What? What is it?"

He pointed down.

Even in the murky darkness of the night, the long, sinuous trail of blood mixing itself into the flowing water was clearly visible – and traceable. The duo followed it with their eyes up to a point beneath a window of the temple, and in the window…

Reno moved to stand beneath the windowsill, crouched, and then leaped, seven feet not being a terribly difficult height for him to scale. He landed in a crouch on it and inspected the dead monk leaning against the sill. The man's throat had been cut while he sat looking out at the rain, apparently, and he'd slumped forward so the blood ran down the wall of the temple and into the water below.

"We won't be needing the jackets," Reno murmured grimly to himself. He looked down at Yuffie and motioned for her to jump as well. She nodded and made the leap effortlessly, and he pulled her inside.

Yuffie took one look at the monk and a pained expression slid over her lovely features. "That was the guy who did the divinations for us," she whispered. "Poor bastard."

"Looks like we're not the only ones with designs on the materia. Let's move – but quietly."

They made their way out of the late master of ceremonies' room and into the hallway, moving in guarded crouches. Slowly they made their way to the nearest hallway intersection and peered out into the large area of the temple proper where the shrine was kept.

Highlighted in the darkness by the glow of the Leviathan materia were eight humanoid silhouettes.

Reno put his finger to his lips and leaned forward to try to get a better look at them.

The floor creaked behind him and he whirled, seeing the shadow materialize out of the deeper blackness behind it. It lashed out and struck Yuffie a glancing blow to the face that she managed to mostly avoid, its other hand stabbing out towards Reno, something sharp and metal in its clutch –

Reacting instinctively, Reno pulled himself to the side so the knife thrust went past his left ear and snapped up his right arm. The motion triggered the spring on his holdout Derringer and it leapt into his hand, trigger molding to his finger. His thumb flicked the safety off even as the tiny pistol settled into his palm, and Reno pressed the muzzle of the gun up against the shadow's eye and fired.

The report, though muted, was still like an explosion of raging thunder in the quiet background noise of the rain. The horrid splattering noise that followed a moment later only served to highlight it, and the heads of all eight silhouettes swiveled to look at Reno and Yuffie.

* * *

_It wasn't possible. Karsk's vision was swimming in and out, the damned splotches on his chest sending electric waves of agony up and down his spinal cord. He couldn't focus; his eyes refused to obey him._

_In front of him, fully erect, Kadaj stood stiffly, not breathing, looking as though he was exerting a massive effort. One moment he was there, the next –_

General!

_And then the General was gone again. Karsk reached out instinctively, reaching for that impossible sight, and encountered only the cold, smooth flesh of Kadaj's face._

He feels too cold to live.

"_What _are_ you?"_

"_I'm merely a remnant of Mother's great legacy," Kadaj replied archly, brushing Karsk's stunned extremity away from his face. "So are my brothers. You could say that we're directly subordinate to the General, privy to his wishes."_

"_You said the General had a mission for me," Karsk rasped. "If you know his will, ask him this: why did he try to end it? Why did he call Meteor?"_

"_I don't know Sephiroth," the young man snapped with a wave of his hand. He began to pace like a caged animal around Karsk. "I said privy to his _wishes_, not his thoughts. I've come to collect my brethren from this place – those children that share Mother's memetic legacy. But I have some fraction of the General's memories within me, and he remembers you quite well, Sub-General Karsk._

"_He wants this city purged."_

_Karsk stared openmouthed for a moment before stuttering, "Impossible! The General would never give such an order! We made total war upon the Wutainese because they refused to surrender until Godo himself ordered them to lay down their arms, not because we wanted to!"_

"_Times change," Kadaj sneered. "Times change, cities change, men change, _gods _change. Isn't that what he was to you, Sub-General? A god?"_

"_He was a respected superior officer," Karsk replied hotly. "A god, no."_

"_You had feelings for him. He knew this, Sub-General, and I know it as well. I know that you must have similar feelings about me."_

"_You're not the General. You share some of his features, and may even share some part of his mind, but you're not him."_

_With a snarl, Kadaj moved to Karsk and gripped him by his jaw. "This noble streak of yours is frustrating. You _will _obey the order, Sub-General, and you _will _do it of your own free will."_

* * *

"RUN!" Reno bellowed at a shocked Yuffie, not bothering to try to conceal himself any longer. The both of them split and leapt in opposite directions, just as the nearest two silhouettes snapped up what looked like assault rifles and fired.

Rolling up into a crouch, Reno looked at the wall where the bullets had hit. Four craters, spaced out neatly where he and Yuffie would have been; from the accuracy and the amount of wall they'd blown out, the Turk determined that the rifles were firing staccato three-round bursts. _Probably gas-powered, too._

He scampered, moving quickly down the hall and disappearing into one of the dead monks' quarters. Footfalls fell on the floor in his wake, and he counted three pairs of feet. _Standard tactic – send three after me, three after Yuffie, and the last two grab the materia and split_.

Waiting until the first two pairs of feet had passed by, Reno threw open the door and lashed out with his prod, slamming the third pursuer across the back of his skull. He began to fall without so much as a sound; the impact had probably outright killed him. With a grunt, Reno stopped the cadaver's descent and got a shoulder into it, lifting it off of the ground and charging.

The dead man's companions were not stupid. They heard the sound of prod on skull and whirled, bringing their weapons to bear, but Reno was already closing the distance between them, the body acting as a shield.

They still opened fire.

From the terrific forces smashing into the corpse, Reno figured they were using Rude's choice weapon, the N17B assault rifle – five-ought-fifty-six-caliber nasties, and when you packed that into a three-round burst you had an effective infantry penetrator. The only reason Reno wasn't full of holes was because the corpse had on Kevlar armor. _Real well-equipped, these particular miscreants_.

Reno got within striking distance and heaved the body onto its fellows, who both swore in what were distinctly non-Wutainese dialects and tried to free their guns.

The Turk started off with the closer man, to his left. He darted in, grabbed the barrel of the N17B, jerked, twisted, and pulled in rapid succession, ripping the gun from its wielder's grip. The gun was long and sleek, with an extended stock, clip located at the fore of the trigger, and a sturdy barrel with an optional sighting scope. Shifting his prod to his left hand, Reno jabbed past the Kevlar armor on the man into his stomach and pressed the big red button, while simultaneously swinging back around to his right, still holding the N17B by its barrel.

A moment after the second man succeeded in throwing his dead comrade to the floor and freeing his rifle, the butt of Reno's pilfered rifle took him square in the nose.

Knowing that Yuffie was probably pinned down, Reno quickly pulled his prod back from the left-side man, who collapsed, twitching, to the floor. He stuck the weapon in his pants pocket – after flicking the anti-shock safety on, of course – got a proper hold on the N17B, and shot both men in the skull with a single three-round burst. Next, he checked the clip on the weapon, saw that it was nearly empty, and borrowed several more from his downed adversaries.

It was then that he saw the headset concealed beneath the black masks they wore.

* * *

"_And how do you plan to compel me to carry out these orders that you claim are from the General?" Karsk asked. "I'm afraid, Kadaj, that you lack all the essential qualities of the man that I followed. If you're to convince me to do _anything_, you will have to be extremely persuasive."_

_Kadaj stroked his chin for a moment, looking contemplative. The motion was strikingly similar to one that Karsk remembered of Sephiroth, but at the same time it was different. He struggled to separate the two, thinking that the pain in his chest had to be addling his mind._

Of course_, he thought. _The General always did that when gazing out at the battlefield, trying to determine the next strategic point for us to hit. He never looked that way while trying to force his will on someone.

_Coming to think of it, Karsk couldn't ever recall Sephiroth actually trying to do that. You either cooperated or you were swept away; there was no attempt to bring you over to Sephiroth's side. Karsk had admired that in Sephiroth; he regarded it as an efficient attitude. _The winds of change have brought down mighty empires, so why should the individual be spared them?

"_Mark my words, Sub-General," Kadaj finally said, malevolence seeping through his tone. "You could say that Sephiroth has foreseen it, though I can't personally testify as to whether or not clairvoyance is one of his powers. You _will _purge the city, and you _will _do it of your own free will." He released Karsk and stalked back to the hole he'd punched in the brick wall surrounding the condominium's backyard._

"_Obviously, Sephiroth is no longer the General that I followed," Karsk snarled at his back, "if he chooses to invest his trust in filth like you."_

_Kadaj whirled, the Souba in his hand, held in a peculiar reverse grip. "What?"_

"_You heard me," Karsk replied archly, folding his arms across his chest despite the pain the motion caused him. "What do you intend to do about it? If I'm to purge the city, you can't kill me."_

_For a moment Kadaj spitted him with a look of sure pure, intense hatred that Karsk felt the flesh on the back of his neck crawl. Then it passed, and the implacable, smug smile was back… and the silver-haired demon was focused on the condominium behind the Sub-General._

"_I certainly can't kill _you_, no, but your men are infinitely more disposable than you are."_

* * *

Lowering his voice into a baritone, Reno barked into the microphone, "We've got the redhead!"

"Good work," a voice crackled back at him. "Kill him."

"Already did, but we got some info out of him 'forehand," Reno replied. "He said that he 'n his lady friend were here to plant a bomb on the shrine. She's got the bomb, and it'll blow the shit out of anything nearby – we should evac right away."

"Negative, negative," another voice protested. "We got her pinned down and she ain't movin'. Why the hell should we evac now? Stupid bitch probably was planning to remote-det it – she's not lookin' to die."

"You stupid asshole, she's waitin' for you to get close enough," the Turk snarled.

"Who is this? What's your name?"

Reno took a breath and did some of the quickest thinking in his life. "You know me, idiot, it's – SHIT! IT'S HER!" He fired several bursts into the ceiling to accentuate his exclamation, knowing they'd pick up on the microphone.

"What? We got her pinned down!"

Keeping up a sustained fire, Reno shouted, "YOU'RE SHOOTIN' AT NOTHING, SHE'S ON US, SHE'S GONNA – AAAAAGH!"

He let the headset drop to the ground and sprinted into one of the monks' quarters, jumped out the window, landed to the side of the temple, and ran around it double-time. Taking a flying leap, Reno landed himself on the sill of another one of the monks' quarters, opposite the one he'd leapt out of, and pulled himself inside.

Quickly poking his head out into the hallway, he saw it was empty except for Yuffie, who had emerged from the room adjacent in a crouch, quietly surveying the area. She saw him and grinned.

"Did you make them pull out?" she asked.

Reno nodded and handed her his prod, keeping the N17B close to him. "Had them thinking that you murdered the three they sent after _me_ after my unfortunate death. Maybe they'll overlook the fact that they won't find my body." He took a look around the nearby corner and asked, "By the way, couldn't you have brought your little boomerang-shuriken thing?"

"_Little_?" Yuffie asked. "Not without being too conspicuous, no."

"Would've been nice to have it."

"Oh, sure, no problem," she laughed. "I'll just keep a weapon the size of Tifa's rack IN MY BACK POCKET!"

"Tifa's not _that_ busty," Reno protested.

"Shaddap."

"Yes'm."

* * *

_Karsk stood his ground. "How will I effect the purging of this city without men, Kadaj? You're contradicting yourself."_

_That certainly confused the young man. He started to reply and then cut himself off with a scowl, sheathing his sword. "I hope _nii-san _won't be this aggravating." Drawing in a deep breath, he waved a hand dismissively. "Fine, do as you please. Disobey your General. I'm sure he'll take no offense."_

"_I'm not directly under his command any more. All of us mutinied. By all rights you really _should _kill the lot of us for deserting."_

"_True, but he still has a use for you, and though leniency is not his strong suit, he is willing to grant you a pardon." Backing slowly out into the night, Kadaj finished, "If I were you, I would take that into consideration when deciding whether or not to obey the order."_

_And he was gone._

_Karsk frowned at the hole in his wall and estimated that the entire section would need to be broken down and replaced. "Damn it all."_

_It was fairly obvious to Karsk that Kadaj did indeed know Sephiroth – perhaps he even _was _Sephiroth, on some level. However, he did not know the General, and, apparently, neither did Sephiroth._

_Oddly enough, Karsk's rendering of the General and Sephiroth as two different people seemed completely rational to him. Perhaps he was merely going insane or senile, but it made sense. The man he'd once known was no longer amongst the living, if he would send silver-haired demon children out to order the purging of cities – to say nothing of Meteor._

And Karsk woke up.

* * *

"We've searched all the monks' quarters on this side of the temple," number three reported. "Nothin'. No trace of red-hair. I don't see where six, seven, and eight could've dumped him."

Number one frowned beneath his mask and then noticed something, barely visible in the dark: number seven's mask was pulled down on his face and his headset was missing. A quick scan of the floor revealed that the headset lay just to the right of him, obviously left there by whoever had spoken into it.

"Omega! We've been made!" he bellowed just as Reno planted a three-round burst in the back of his skull.

Even as the rest of the squad whirled to confront the redhead, Yuffie leapt at them from the opposite end of the hallway, taking two down with wild prod swings before they realized what was going on. The last two didn't have to go through the trouble of deciding whether to shoot at Reno or Yuffie, because the redhead conveniently shot them during the process of deliberation.

Yuffie blew out a long breath and then looked away as Reno shot the other two that she'd taken down with the prod. "That really necessary, Reno?"

"I don't tell you how to get yourself into arranged marriages, you don't tell me how to shoot people," Reno drawled. "Besides, they knew the risks when they opened fire on us." The ninja-girl nodded glumly at that. "Things just got a lot more complicated, seems to me."

"Who could they be working for?" Yuffie asked. "They were good, but not elite or anything."

"Doesn't matter, we'll figure it out later. We get the materia and we split, now."

Gesturing at the N17B that Reno still held, Yuffie asked, "What about that gun, Reno? It probably has your fingerprints on it."

"I'll bring it with us. Rude'll want to have my children for it – metaphorically speaking, of course."

They moved into the main hall and approached the shrine. Grinning, Reno gave Yuffie's shoulder a squeeze and then plucked the Leviathan materia off of its pedestal. "And now we exit, stage right."

He hadn't taken three steps away from the shrine when Yuffie said, "Reno…"

"What?"

Reno turned back around to see the massive jade dragon glaring at him, eyes ablaze with blue fire. "**WHO DARES DESECRATE THE SHRINE OF THE GREAT SEIRYŪ**?"

The two of them stood utterly speechless for a second, and then Reno said, "Uh, me."

The dragon lunged with impossible speed, clawed hands racing towards Reno to crush him into paste –


	13. Chapter XIII

Greetings once again, readers. I return from Pittsburgh - I actually returned on Thursday, but I'm lazy, so the update is today, as promised.

Incidentally, the "upgrade" to this site is not so much a blessing as an annoyance. Drop-down menus randomly stop functioning, and best of all, the button to insert a ruler in the document editor is broken. I have to stick them in via HTML. What a pain.

Anyhow, Chapter XIII.

* * *

The great clawed hand rushed in at Reno, fingers spread, the world shaking from the volume of the beast's roar. 

All Reno's life passed before his eyes. His childhood, his first mission, Sephiroth…

Yuffie.

Reno's eyes refocused and he snapped up the N17B, firing. Three-round bursts thudded into rock-hard jade and sent shrapnel flying. The dragon reared back, snarling, and Reno started to back up –

It struck again, with both hands, closing jade fingers around Reno and lifting him into the air, seizing Yuffie with its other hand. "**ONE REASON**," it rumbled, "**WHY I SHOULD SPARE YOU. GIVE ONE TO ME**."

"'Cause I know something you don't," Reno immediately shot back, throwing a desperate sideways glance at Yuffie. _Let me handle this – you'll know when to move_.

She raised her chin slightly in an affirmative response.

"**AND WHAT KNOWS A MORTAL BUG THAT SEIRYŪ DOES NOT**?"

"The answer to a riddle." _Divine creatures are supposed to love stuff like this. They want to tear your head off? Tell them a riddle. Always works in the books._

Then again, those same books _did_ call for the employment of flaming torches when hunting spirits, lanterns while hunting smugglers, and pitchforks while storming a keep housing a resurrected monster and/or vampire. But Reno figured fiction had a ring of truth to it.

Sea-green glass eyes, blazing with emerald fire, narrowed at Reno. "**RIDDLES DO NOT AMUSE ME**." 

"This one will," Reno replied. "Guess it, and we'll give ourselves up. Lose, and let us go."

Almost unconscious of the ninja-girl in its clawed grip, the dragon stroked its whiskers with a pair of massive talons. "**YOUR PREMISE IS INTRIGUING. THERE WILL BE AN ADDITIONAL CONDITION; I WILL FORGIVE DEFILEMENT OF MY SHRINE, BUT MY MATERIA REMAINS**."

"Fine," Reno replied, scouring his brain for the riddle that he'd read as a kid. "Here's the riddle.

"Neither morning frost

Nor evening heat

Though this can be felt

Thou payest one coin's cost

For on the barge a seat

To cross over, before the ebon throne knelt

In abject grief.

"What is it?"

The dragon closed its eyes in contemplation and opened them a second later.

"**DEATH**."

"'Gratulations," Reno laughed. "You win the prize."

And he let the materia drop.

Howling, the dragon let both Reno and Yuffie drop as he dove for the materia. It certainly wouldn't shatter if it hit the ground, but as a holy materia it was supposed to never touch the earth.

Reno launched himself forward as soon as he hit the ground, knowing Yuffie would make her move.

The claws of the great dragon began to close around the tiny, falling orb when a silver flash spiraled through the air and smacked it into a line drive. Yuffie had thrown Reno's prod with unerring accuracy, and Reno, jumping, snatched the materia out of the air.

He pointed the barrel of the N17B at it. "HOLD UP!" he screamed.

For a moment, the dragon kept rushing at him, and he tightened his finger on the trigger, but it froze the second precisely what he was holding the materia up against resolved itself in whatever passed for its mind. Its eyes swiveled between the materia, Reno, and the gun.

"You know what this is?" Reno asked, hefting the assault rifle meaningfully. He didn't do anything further; the blasted thing weighed a ton and he was holding it with one arm, after all.

"**YES**."

"Let us go or the materia gets blown into pretty dust."

"**THE CLIP IS EMPTY**," the dragon snarled.

"I still got the grenade attachment. I'll lose a lot more than an arm if you go for us, so I'll do it – no question."

Its eyes narrowing again, the dragon stared levelly at Reno, evidently gauging him. Reno stared back, not bothering to fix a grin on his face.

Finally, the dragon blew out a massive snort. "**I SENSE YOUR COMMITMENT. IT IS FOR THIS GIRL, NO? THE DAUGHTER OF MY OLD SUMMONER**?"

Reno nodded, slowly.

"**I EXPECT THE MATERIA RETURNED**."

"'Course. We're not selling it or nothing."

Satisfied, apparently, the dragon sank back into its old pose over the shrine, and the fire went out in its eyes.

Yuffie gave a sigh of monumental proportions. "You were great, sugar."

"Thanks." Reno tossed her the materia, picked up his prod, and got a firmer grip on the N17B. "Guess he isn't such a bad guy after all."

Smiling, Yuffie pulled Reno into a long, sweet kiss.

"Let's get back to the Kanbe-ya."

* * *

Rude came awake as he heard movement. Rolling over, the Turk saw Karsk sitting up on his floor mat, staring at the bundle next to him. 

"Expecting a call?"

Karsk started. "No. Well – yes, but I shouldn't be."

Rude raised an eyebrow.

"It's nothing."

"Tell me. We went out drinking together, call it returning the favor."

After a moment's hesitation, Karsk replied, "My men are the only real family I have. Every night I expect to get a call hearing one of them's dead. Accident, health failure, et cetera… but especially a mob looking for a foreigner. We're strangers in a strange land, and just because they've grown accustomed to us doesn't mean that's changed."

"It doesn't look that bad. The bike gangs're the worst."

"It's them who got the populace riled up about foreigners and nationalism in the first place. They embrace the old Giang Hu ideals – strength, independence, kill or be killed. The fact that foreigners made them relinquish those ideals for survival, even for a few years, infuriated them, and now they hold every one of us responsible."

Rude pursed his lips slightly and considered that, then decided not to bring up any question about it, turning back to the issue of Karsk's men instead. "Your men were military elites, right? They're not SOLDIERs, but they can take care of themselves."

"If they do, they get accused of attacking citizens – in the courts, even. It's why I have them keep to themselves in the condominium most of the time, but they still have to go out occasionally – they can't be cooped up in there forever." The Sub-General's expression hardened. "That's why the bike gangs have to be eliminated."

About to respond, Rude cut himself off as he heard footsteps outside the window. They came purposefully closer and Rude quickly drew himself up, ready to strike. Opposite him, Karsk moved to the side of the window and motioned for Rude to do the same.

Two shadowy figures burst through the shutters, and Rude and Karsk each clotheslined one. An N17B and a materia hit the floor half a second before the figures did.

"Wrong room," Reno said weakly.

* * *

"You were planning to do _what_?" 

Reno mustered the best grin he could and reiterated, "We were going to plant the materia in your compound, then det an explosive in your trash bin to pull the police to you."

Karsk stared at him, then flipped open his cell and speed-dialed something. "Ayaro? It's Sarge. Sparkler disposal in our trash. Miniature." Pause. "Roger." He flipped the cell closed and resumed staring at Reno. "This was so Godo would declare me a liability and end the contract with me, no?"

"Yeah."

"Wouldn't Makoto then, by default, marry Yuffie?"

"You'll officially be told tomorrow, I guess, that Rufus is a suitor now too, and I'm representin' his interests."

The Sub-General's mouth twisted into a grim smile. "I applaud your strategy, and rest assured I take no offense – none of this is personal – but Yuffie is the most direct path to the elimination of the bike gangs and through that this isolationist sentiment."

"You can't just band together and strike out against the gangs?" Yuffie asked.

"Only when we're officially employed by the government of Wutai can we have an effective shield against nationalistic sentiment from the populace."

"Sounds like a load of one hundred percent bullshit," Reno countered. "Government employees or no, you're still foreigners. The populace won't take any more kindly to you enforcing order than they would any other non-Wutainese."

"But the police and the courts will not be able to look the other way, in favor of the isolationists, if complaints are lobbied. They are bound by law to investigate to the fullest extent all accusations against appointed protectors of Wutai. I know all this; I've studied it extensively."

Rubbing his chin, Reno said, "Okay, suppose for a sec you got me. I still say you've got an ulterior motive."

Karsk glared at him, and it was a withering effect – the great brows creased down over penetrating, brown eyes and the mouth turned downward into a fierce, compressed shape. "Don't we all, Mr. Reno? Your throwing Mr. Shin-Ra's lot into this marriage may well earn you a promotion if it goes off."

"The Boss's got no interest in marrying Yuffie. I did that to try to push back the date of the marriage, for one, and to have a backup plan in case we couldn't." Reno leaned forward and tapped Karsk's chest with his finger, several times. "I'm in this for Yuffie. I got no stake in this shithole of a town, Karsk. They throw me out, I go back to Edge and just get any assignments I might have here relegated to the delicious dyad."

"Tseng and Elena," Rude corrected him.

"Whatever. They're closer than Cid and his smokes is my point. Both pretty, both fairly professional, both up to their necks in lovey-dovey for one another."

Karsk's frown decreased slightly in magnitude. "Then why are you doing this, Mr. Reno? Certainly Yuffie's impending marriage concerns you, but if it was so pressing you might have simply left town with her."

"I'm the one who said we stay," Yuffie interrupted.

"I never said that you had to be conscious when you left," Karsk replied mildly.

In spite of himself, Reno laughed. "Nice. But _why_ am I doing this?" Something in his eyes flickered, and Yuffie felt her stomach leap into her throat. Reno was still here, but he was different; here was the Reno that she'd glimpsed as they left Karsk's compound, the cool, professional killer who gauged things on only how vulnerable they were.

_That can't be all_.

"I'm doing this because I don't think it's right to marry someone off and give them a life they don't want," Reno said, the words hissing from his lips. "And anyone who says otherwise is in the way."

Karsk took the blatantly obvious threat in stride, and Reno flickered back to his normal self.

"You haven't considered that this might be what Yuffie needs?" Karsk asked, no longer frowning, voice level. "That she might be better off?"

"Of course not. I don't care if her marrying you, or Makoto, or even Rufus would make her happy, I'm not lettin' it happen. All I know is that I'm doing what registers as halfway right on my broken, crapped-out moral compass. I done a lot of bad stuff in my life, Karsk, and a lot of it I don't regret at all. Hell, the only real regret I got is that I didn't hook up with Yuffie earlier." She blushed obligingly at that, and he grinned roguishly before continuing. "That's the whole thing. Sure it might be selfish, and even plain wrong, but _I don't want to have any regrets_. And if I give Yuffie up, _that_ I'll regret, sure as the nose on your face."

Silence hung in the air as Karsk closed his eyes and very obviously mulled over what Reno was saying. Finally, he swallowed to clear his throat and said, "That's your ideal, is it? Life without regret?" He opened his eyes. "You'll be disappointed, Mr. Reno. That, as far as I know, is impossible."

"You can never know that until you've tried."

Karsk stood up, collected his things, and walked towards the door. "I'll leave the three of you in peace, then. Obviously, Mr. Reno, your reasons are no better and no worse than mine – merely different. But we are both doing what we are doing for our ideal, and that I can respect." He opened the door and inclined his head, back facing Reno, Yuffie and Rude. "Good day."

And he was gone.

"What ideal," Reno murmured, "d'you figure he was talking about?"

Rude gazed after the Sub-General, a distant look in his eyes. Then he put on his sunglasses, took up his umbrella, and replied, "The same one as yours. Just about a different thing, and different people."

"That's not the same one, then!" Reno protested.

He cut himself off as Yuffie teasingly put her forefinger on his lips and clucked softly. "Think about it for a sec, sugar, before you run your mouth off."

The redhead began to snort indignantly, then abruptly caught up with everyone else.

"I see."

Yuffie smiled and graced his lips with a gossamer kiss. "Let's go back to bed, Reno. It's early."

* * *

It _was_ four in the morning, but Rude felt like being outside for a bit. The rain pattered softly on his umbrella, discouraging any stargazing – not that you could see the celestial sphere through the clouds. Karsk had disappeared, no doubt heading back to his condominium. Rude sighed in his head – he never literally sighed if he could help it, it seemed rather a poor thing to do. _Wedding's day after tomorrow, and both our plans to screw with it have gone off the deep end._

He shifted slightly and thought on the meeting that he would be attending the next day. _We might be able to get the gangs to start firing off warning signals, get Godo to change the location or the date_.

And then there was the question of who had hired the team to go into the temple and steal the materia, and for what reason. Whenever Rude wasn't talking – and that was often – he was probably thinking, and throughout Reno's and Karsk's conversation he'd been trying to figure out who besides them would have an interest in the materia.

The conclusion that the Turk kept arriving at was that the person, whoever he or she was, that had hired the team knew as well as he and Reno did that Karsk being caught with the materia in his possession would prove fatal to his chances in the marriage.

_Question then is how they would plan to get the police to investigate the place_.

Rude stopped and more carefully considered the situation. _Maybe this guy's not trying to just stop Karsk from interfering with the marriage. Maybe he wants him dead. Or maybe he does want him dead, but only in the interests of keeping him from marrying Yuffie_.

If Tseng had been planning an op like this, with him, Elena, Reno, and Rude under his command, Rude knew precisely what the man would do.

No, actually… Better to be sure.

Rude pulled out his cell.

* * *

It was evening in Edge, and Cloud Strife was staring frustratedly at a game board. 

He sat in the upstairs lounge in Tifa's bar, and across from him, on the other side of the table, was Denzel. Between them was a Go board. Cloud was white, while Denzel was black.

Black was whooping white's ass.

In his life, Cloud had fought the most powerful being alive, traveled through time, learned much about himself, found sorrow, found love, saved the world several times, but never had he been beaten at Go. In actuality, he had never _played_ Go until recently, but to his eye that meant he had a perfect record, zero-zero. Undefeated and untied. He'd never _won_, but he had a firm belief in the ideal of anything other than a loss being a victory, especially when the idea was as convenient as it was now.

His record was now zero-five.

Soon to be zero-six.

Denzel was smirking, waiting for Cloud to make his next move. "You could surrender, Cloud."

"Just gimme a second!" The blond man stared with glowing eyes at the board, willing it to make some spatial sense. He had a sword composed of six different blades that he could take apart and put back together with one hand in his sleep, but he couldn't figure out how to gain an advantage here. It was worse than when he'd realized that a dress had a very nice, slimming effect on him.

It wasn't a secret he'd shared with many people.

Standing behind Cloud was Tseng, dressed in a dark red suit, black undershirt, and a ruby red tie. The ensemble was completed with smart black leather shoes and gloves that matched his raven hair. Overall, he looked impressive and striking.

He also looked nervous as hell.

Cloud himself was dressed in a modest black suit, looking nowhere near as striking as Tseng but still good-looking. Denzel was obviously not going out for the evening with the adults, so he was in his normal tee-shirt and jeans.

"What's the delay back there?" Cloud shouted over his shoulder.

"Elena and I will be ready when we're ready!" Tifa shouted back. "We've planned this for a week, now, Tseng and Elena have flown down from the Northern Continent, and she and I want to look _good_!"

"You're not getting out of this so easy, Cloud," Denzel snickered. "We finish this before you leave."

Tseng's phone rang. He offered up an oath to whatever deities might be listening and flipped it open. "Tseng. I'm off-duty, this better be good."

"It's Rude."

Raising an eyebrow, Tseng said, "Rude. What _time_ is it there?"

"There were complications with the evening's plans, so I'm awake. I need your advice."

* * *

Karsk collapsed onto his floor mat. His mind told him to shuck the boots he'd hastily put on as he walked to the car, and also that he was only going to get another three hours of sleep or so, but he didn't particularly care, because of that… _person_ that had surfaced. 

_Obviously, Reno is far more than he seems_. For the briefest moment, Karsk had seen something in the young man – something normally buried that had come into the light and shouted "I" at the heart of the world. It was… _Sephiroth_.

_No, obviously it was still Reno. That man has no more of Sephiroth in him than I do. But… that chill, that piercing awareness and power! Here indeed is an immeasurable man._

"Fighting for his ideal, is he?" Karsk murmured. "If only my ideal was so clear-cut, General."

_He wants this city purged_.

Karsk saw the flames in his mind's eye. Homes burning, people screaming and fleeing. They'd broken through the last lines of enemy defense, and the soldiers…

_The soldiers were out of control._

"_COME TO ATTENTION!" Karsk screamed. "I WILL NOT TOLERATE INSUBORDINATION, NOR WILL I TOLERATE SLAUGHTER OF INNOCENTS! CEASE YOUR ATTACK AT ONCE!"_

_The three soldiers he was screaming at, ten feet away from him, were hefting a heavy machine gun and centering their aim on the backs of a crowd of fleeing women and children. In the light of the flames Karsk could see a manic glee in their eyes, and knew instinctively what was going through their minds. Revenge for their lost comrades, for their plundered youth, for Shin-Ra… Whatever they _could_ avenge, they were bent on doing it._

_Karsk went for his sidearm. He knew he'd never draw in time to take down all the three of the bastards, the insane men. Other members of the platoon screamed at them, and Arcturus barreled forward from behind Karsk, holding an empty rocket-propelled grenade launcher like it weighed nothing, ready to bash off the heads of the men who were so possessed by bloodlust._

_And then came the General._

_He fell from the sky like a horrid angel, smeared with the blood of the enemy, silver hair blackened by soot and smoke and powder. Never afterwards was Karsk sure of where he'd come from, precisely, but at that moment it looked to all present as though he descended upon the men like divine punishment, personified in the visage of the most powerful young man Karsk had ever known._

_The heads of the three flew and the heavy machine gun was cut in two within half a second._

"_**STAND DOWN**!" the General roared. "**YOUR SUB-GENERAL GAVE YOU AN ORDER, ALL OF YOU! I DON'T CARE IF ONE OR A HUNDRED OF YOU CHOOSE TO DISOBEY EVEN THE MOST TRIVIAL COMMAND OF HIS, I WILL PERSONALLY DECAPITATE YOU IF YOU DO! IS THAT PERFECTLY CLEAR**?"_

_A terrific hush descended upon the gathered soldiers, as though invisible hands had seized them about their throats, and the General inclined his head, a smile on his face. "Your silence tells me my example was well-taken." He snapped his gaze up to Karsk. "Sub-General, see to the dousing of those fires. We're here to conquer Wutai, not reduce it to a smoking crater."_

_Karsk saluted. "Yes, sir."_

_As he strode past Karsk to issue orders elsewhere on the battlefield, Sephiroth came side by side with the Sub-General and said, quietly, "You were doing the right thing, Sub-General. We can't have wanton murder."_

"_Yes, sir."_

Karsk blinked tears out of his eyes as the scene flashed before him. _What happened to you, General?_


	14. Chapter XIV

…And the French guy says, "Deodorant? What's that?" Laughter ensues. There's also a Chapter XIV somewhere in the mix.

* * *

"You're reading too much into Yuffie's marriage," Tseng replied to Rude, shaking his head and unconsciously tapping a finger on the back of his cell. The other Turk probably couldn't hear it, but it had become a tic of Tseng's that he wanted to expunge. "Who's to say that the guy who ordered the group in didn't just want the materia to ransom?" 

"It had to be to set up Karsk," Rude argued from many thousands of miles away. "All the bike gangs here would murder anyone who touched the Leviathan materia, foreigner or not."

"You asked for my opinion," the leader of the Turks said mildly as he watched Cloud slowly lose at Go to Denzel. "I never said it would concur with yours."

On the Western Continent, Rude fingered the handle of his umbrella and frowned slightly. "That much's obvious – but everything right now is about Yuffie's marriage." He waited a moment, then tapped his phone. "Tseng? You there?"

Tseng, meanwhile, was standing dumbstruck, jaw dropped, not hearing the voice in his ear. Elena had appeared wearing a flowing, strapless gown of pure, silken black – but this was black version two, glittering and making the light skitter over her body, setting off her pale skin and going nicely with her ebony heels. She smiled coyly at Tseng and closed his jaw with a touch. "You'll drool all over your suit, Tseng."

"I'll call you back some other time," Rude sighed.

* * *

Reno came to slowly, dragging himself out of what had been by all accounts a mediocre dream, on both the scales of intensity and subject matter. Rufus did not make a particularly enthralling conversationalist in dreamland, apparently, and the fact that Reno's dream-self had apparently been trying to get a raise did not make the process any more bearable. 

"Morning," Yuffie murmured. "What timesit?"

Squinting at the watch he hadn't bothered to remove before the two of them had collapsed onto the floor mat, Reno replied, "'Bout seven fifty-five. I guess Rude'll wake us up in five minutes."

"Let's beat 'im to it," Yuffie grunted, sitting up and rubbing at her shoulder. "I think you were nibbling on me in your sleep, sugar."

"That would be just a tiny bit too fun to sleep through. You probably slept on it wrong – oh, hell."

In the light provided by the morning sun, it was easy enough to see the almost invisible jade fragments buried in Yuffie's shoulder. She blew out a long sigh and said, "We're gonna need tweezers."

Reno snorted. "Oh, sure, let me just pull out the pair of tweezers I keep on me at all times for no particular reason."

The door opened and Rude – and his umbrella – stepped inside. "You're up already. Good."

"Yuffie's got some microshrapnel in her shoulder. You got a pair of tweezers, partner?"

"Better." Rude removed one of the earrings from his right ear and waved it meaningfully. When one looked close enough, it was possible to discern that the earring clamped into the ear piercing through a pair of tongs very much like those of tweezers'. "I keep it around in case of splinters, that kind of thing."

"Wash it first," Yuffie yawned. "And while you're at it, see if Makoto and Rei are up. Knock first."

_That_ got Rude's attention. "Makoto and Rei as in…"

"Room next to yours," Reno replied, inspecting Yuffie's shoulder. "Yuffie's a good matchmaker, apparently. I bet she could even hook _you_ up – if your umbrella would permit it."

Rude gave him a stony, level look for a moment before stepping out of the room.

"What're we doing today, partying?" the redhead asked.

Wincing, Yuffie moved her shoulder around a bit and then decided to leave it be until Rude returned with the sterilized – earring… thing. "If you're gonna figure out a way to cheat at it, Reno, you'd better get someone who knows it to teach you Hancho."

* * *

"Hancho," Makoto explained, "is a portmanteau of the two words 'han' and 'cho' – odd and even, respectively. A more common variant of this game is Cho-han bakuchi, but in Wutai, Hancho is traditionally used in business and other extrapersonal affairs, while Cho-han bakuchi is a gambling game." 

The five of them sat in the room Rude and Karsk had used, seated on the floor. Reno sat across from Makoto, while Yuffie sat next to Reno, shoulder bared to let Rude remove the microshrapnel. Rei leaned sleepily against Makoto's side, a look of happy contentment on her otherwise placid features.

"Okay, which is more complicated?" Reno asked. "If they're alike, learning Cho-han whatsis might make Hancho easier."

"Hancho is by far more complicated than Cho-han bakuchi, so I _am_ going to teach you the latter first." The door opened behind Makoto and a maid came in, carrying three bamboo cups, six dice, three pads of notepaper, and three pens on a tray. She placed it on the floor and nodded to Makoto, who grinned at her and said something in Wutainese.

"Friend of yours?" Rude asked, not looking up from Yuffie's shoulder, after the girl had left.

"I got her the job she holds at this place," Makoto replied offhandedly. "We'd attended the same place for basic education, and when she was having trouble getting employed I put in a good word for her here."

"You're still not the sharpest tool in the shed, but at least you're not a jackass any more," Reno commented dryly.

"That's a Reno compliment," Yuffie interjected quickly. "Means he approves."

With a sharp grin, Makoto replied, "I gathered that, and appreciate it." He scooped up a bamboo cup and a pair of dice. "Now, Cho-han bakuchi is quite simple, Reno. The dealer, who is normally shirtless and sitting in a formal position so as to show he is not cheating, places the dice in the cup –" he did so – "and sends the cup to the floor, like so."

Quickly, Makoto flipped the cup and slammed it to the floor so the dice were hidden inside it.

"Now, Reno – han or cho?"

A small smile lighting his eyes, Reno said, "So you want me to tell you whether the dice in that cup total up to an even number or an odd one."

"Precisely. Not _the_ number, simply han or cho."

Reno shrugged. "Han."

Removing the cup from the dice, Makoto revealed that they'd come up one and four. "Han it is. You win."

"That simple, eh?"

"Obviously there would be more people involved in an actual game for money, but that's the gist of the practice. Now I'll teach you Hancho. Rei, could you…?"

"Mmm-hmm," Rei replied, blinking the muzziness out of her eyes. She scooted slightly away from Makoto, taking with her a cup and a pair of dice. Taking the hint, Reno also scooped up a cup and its dice.

"_Tanka o kiru_!" Makoto immediately bellowed.

Both he and Rei slammed their cups to the floor, hiding their dice, and Reno followed suit a moment later. "That mean anything in particular?"

"It's an expression roughly equivalent to 'preparing to begin or speak,' especially aggressively. Now, in Hancho, things get rather more complicated." A tight smile began to grow on Makoto's face; this was obviously a favorite game of his. "Not only do you have to try to determine whether your own dice are han or cho, you also have to guess what ours are."

"Okay, but that can't be all."

By way of reply, Makoto placed a pad of notepaper and a pen in front of Reno, taking one for himself and one for Rei as well. "It's not. You don't vocalize your guesses; you write them here, on this paper. You can't be expected to know the characters for han or cho, so we'll go ahead and write them out in your alphabet for now – I'll teach you them so you know them for the day after tomorrow."

Yuffie, between winces as Rude picked jade bits out of her shoulder, eyed Reno's pad. He quickly wrote han, han, and cho, and then –

"Don't label them," Makoto said quickly. "The point is that you can claim any one of those pertains to any one of us, including yourself. Now tear that sheet off of the pad and place it in the center between us."

Reno did so, and Makoto and Rei did as well a moment later. "Obviously, we can tell whose paper is whose from the handwriting," Makoto explained, "which is why real Hancho games use premade, identical stamps to show han or cho. At this point, the moderator, who will probably be Lord Godo in the real game, takes the papers, crumples them, and lets them fall back down to the center. They will obviously bounce and roll, so the three of us all take the paper closest to us." Makoto scooped up the papers, crumpled them into balls, exchanged them in his hands a couple times, then stood up, extended his hands over the center of the floor, and let the papers drop.

Two of them landed near Reno, though one was closer to him than the other, and one landed at Makoto's feet. He added, "In this case, Reno, you take the paper closest to you and Rei will take the other. In an actual Hancho game there are boundaries put down on the floor for this."

Reno took the closer wad of paper and unballed it. It was clearly Rei's handwriting – his own was scraggly and hard to read, while hers was flowing and beautiful in any alphabet; a true mark of a geisha. She had guessed two cho, one han.

"You can declare one guess on the paper void, meaning it won't count against you if it's wrong or for you if it's right," Makoto said. "If you want to withhold a void, it's your right, but you can't save it for the next round." Immediately, he crossed out one han on his paper – he'd gotten his own back, two han and one cho. Reno eyed Rei's paper and crossed out a cho, while Rei left her hands sitting primly in her lap, obviously declining to void any of Reno's guesses.

"Now," the gang leader said, "we reveal our dice." The three of them picked their cups up off of the floor and moved them to the side, revealing that Reno had han, Makoto had cho, and Rei had cho.

"One han, two cho. Here is where the game gets confusing, so pay attention. It behooves you to keep track of who's got guesses that can't be applied to any of the dice. I've voided one han, and I have one han and one cho open to me. You are _required _to apply your first two non-void choices to the other players – if all three, in this case, of your choices are nonvoided, then it's basically an open field. If there were four of us, you would have to apply your first three non-void choices to the other three, and so on. Obviously, Hancho isn't played often with two players, because it gets very boring. Since Rei has cho and you have han, Reno, I can say that my han applies to you and my cho applies to her. For each of you I gain one point, and also a bonus point on both of you – but I'll explain that shortly."

"Got it," Reno affirmed.

"You also have one cho and one han, since Rei guessed two cho, one han. However, since you can only apply the cho to one of us, the non-voided han counts one point against you – so if you applied the cho to me, you would gain a point, but the han subtracts a point from you, equaling null gain. However, if you apply the cho to Rei, you gain a bonus point – because as you guessed two han, one cho, she can only apply the han and cho to myself and you. She gains two points for that, but loses one point for the unvoided han that she can't apply to herself. As she has an inapplicable guess, you gain a point for applying one of your guesses to her, just as I gain a point for applying one of my guesses to you and your inapplicable han."

"I like this game," Reno laughed. "So right now, the score is four for you, one for me, and two for Rei?"

"Yes. I gain one point from each of you, and a bonus from each of you for your inapplicable guesses. You gained one point for applying your cho to Rei, a bonus for her inapplicable han, and a penalty point for your inapplicable han. Rei gained one point from each of us, plus a bonus for your inapplicable han, and a penalty point for her inapplicable han. It really is a game of pure chance."

"Fixing the dice isn't going to work, here," Reno observed, sobering slightly. "It's got way too many variables."

"Hancho is designed to prevent cheating," Rei explained. "In older days, Cho-han bakuchi was exploited by gambling-houses all over Wutai to drain gamblers of their money. As cheating could not be tolerated in business arrangements where a chance arbitration was required, Hancho was developed."

"It's all in the paper."

All of them looked at Rude in surprise as he deposited the last of the microshrapnel into a small bowl and dropped his earring into a pan of water that he'd boil afterwards. "The paper," he repeated. "Who guesses what, which one goes to who. You could be right on with your guesses on who has what and someone could end up with your paper. In the end, if you're going to cheat, you need the moderator on your side, as well as at least one other player."

"And even then, all that you're able to do is coordinate your guesses to minimally step on one another's toes," Yuffie finished, testing her shoulder. "In short…"

"We have to play it fair and square," Reno growled, the words leaving a bad taste in his mouth.

* * *

As the five of them were getting ready to depart, Reno's cell rang. 

"Reno here."

He felt an unpleasant feeling surface in his stomach when "It's Rufus" came from the other end. "What's the situation?"

"You couldn't have called at a worse time, really, boss. Our plan to take Karsk out of the running got blown to shit because a third party was also after the materia and Karsk ended up catching us with it. We also can't cheat when we play dice to figure out who exactly Yuffie's marrying, because the game we're going to use is basically cheatproof."

There was a silence that carried a significantly stunned connotation to it, and then, "Even _you_ can't figure out a way to fix this game?"

"I'm hurt," Reno drawled. "Nope. To cheat proper you'd need to be coordinating with all the players and the moderator and have all the dice fixed. And if you were on such good terms with everyone, what would be the point?"

"That's the world of business for you," the Shin-Ra president sighed from his end. "I'm telling you again, Reno, I'm not marrying your girlfriend and I'm not putting any of my money to her city unless Godo makes a very, _very_ persuasive offer – much more persuasive than a petulant eighteen-year-old that'll have a headache every night and probably won't do better than a halfassed job at housework."

Reno snorted. "You're a man's man, boss."

"I'm just a realist. Yuffie's not a businesswoman, so what else would she be good for? I have you and your colleagues for any skulls I require cracked, so that rules her out. Find me a way out of this, Reno, or it's your ass." A pause. "Oh, and to motivate you, my satellites recently uncovered some… _interesting_ modifications you've made to Tseng's car."

The blood drained from Reno's face. "Have a heart, Rufus."

"This won't amount to anything compared to what I'll have you facing if you get me married to Yuffie, Reno. Consider it a taste of the medicine I'll be feeding you if you screw this up." There was a clicking sound and the line went dead.

* * *

It was past midnight in Edge, and Cloud, Tifa, Tseng, and Elena were having what was possibly the best double date in their personal histories. Cloud hadn't spilled wine on himself or upended any tables, Tifa hadn't nearly taken apart random women for looking at Cloud, Tseng had managed not to lose all composure in front of Elena, and Elena had managed to make dancing in heels look natural – something that was easy enough in a suit, but nowhere near as easy in a restrictive dress. 

They were in a high-end nightclub, having eaten dinner, and Cloud and Tifa had just sat down after dancing. Tseng and Elena were still going at it, whirling about on the dance floor, with fluid grace that clearly spoke of professional lives that were anything but cushy.

"They really are perfect for one another," Tifa commented idly, sipping at a glass of something that went down like fiery syrup. "I'm glad we could make this happen. They needed a little push."

Cloud raised an eyebrow. "They _were_ living together already, right?"

"That's living together, not having a romantic relationship," Tifa replied. "I hear they were still sleeping in separate beds, too."

"Hear from who?"

She grinned impishly, swirling the liquid in her glass, and then coyly said "It's a see-cret" before downing the rest of the contents.

"In other words, you've been talking to Elena about Tseng behind his back."

Tifa choked and swallowed hard, coughing for several seconds before managing to get out, "Have _not_! …Well, just a _little_. You're not supposed to be this smart, Cloud."

He smiled at her. "I've had a good teacher when it comes to this sort of thing."

"Touché."

On the dance floor, the lighting shifted to a pale blue and the music slowed. Almost magically, the couples, who had been pinwheeling around one another at arm's length, merged into slow embraces and began to sway beneath the faux moonlight.

Tseng forced himself to breathe slowly and hoped that the rapid beating of his heart didn't go through his suit – Elena was pressed up tightly against him in his arms, head resting against his as they danced. She felt him stiffen slightly and pulled back just slightly to look at him, smiling.

_Keep eye contact. Oh, she's closing her eyes – leaning her head forward – do it too, Tseng, you're overanalyzing, this is why you have trouble with this sort of thing – _

And his cell beeped.

Elena started and then giggled nervously. "You'd better get that."

With a sigh and a wan smile for Elena's benefit, Tseng quickly reached into his pocket and flipped open his cell. Immediately he was presented with the fact that he had a new text message.

It was from Rufus. _Reno, Yuffie, and Rude are having a good time in Wutai. See the attached picture and you'll be able to tell just how much fun they're having_.

Tseng hit a button and stared.

Cloud and Tifa were leaning across the table they were seated at, matching coy expressions on their faces, when they heard someone exclaim, very loudly and heatedly, "**MY CAR!**"

* * *

Reno stared nervously at the building looming before them – them being himself, Yuffie, Rude, Makoto, and Rei. The building didn't really _loom_ per se, but its sinister place in the world caused its one story of height to seem ten, and its unimposing walls to grow spiky protrusions that spoke of pain and death. 

A clothing store.

"You're going to make an adorable biker," Rei said to Rude. "After all, you can't show up at the meeting tonight in a suit again."

"Makoto and I'll… uh… keep watch out here," Reno said quickly. "And not go in."

Yuffie clucked and sighed, "Boys. Come on, Rude. Rei and I'll find something to do with you."

She grabbed his right arm, Rei grabbed his left, and the both of them led Rude towards the gaping maw of hell itself.

"Godspeed, partner," Reno called after Rude. "I'm sure you'll make it out alive."

Rude flipped him the bird over his shoulder as he disappeared into the store.


	15. Chapter XV

Hello again, readers. I'd like to take a moment to talk about Dirge of Cerberus.

I picked it up and beat it yesterday, and let me tell you: it was not hard. Not even with the auto-aim turned off, which I did to increase the difficulty. It's very linear, and its run-and-gun mechanics are tried and true, meaning all in all it's a very run-of-the-mill action game. God of War or Ninja Gaiden, this is not. Rent, don't buy. I bought it so I could lease it out to buddies. However, the story is very good. If anyone wants a detailed summary (i.e. with spoilers I'd never include in a public one) because they can't play it because it's an action game or because they simply don't want to, drop me a private message or say so in a review.

And now, Chapter XV.

* * *

Reno stared at the entrance to the clothing store that Yuffie and Rei had dragged Rude into. It seemed to throb malevolently, calling out to him with eldritch whispers like fingers on a chalkboard. 

Of course, that was all dramatic convention, and entirely contained in his mind. The building still _was_ threatening, though.

"So, Makoto," he said abruptly, wanting to strike up conversation. He was leaning against the side of Tseng's battered car, as was Makoto, whose bike rested nearby. "Now that you're with Rei, couldn't you say you committed an infidelity or something and make Godo negate the contract?"

A downcast expression came over Makoto's face and he shook his head negatively. "Unfortunately, that's not an option open to me. Not only does the contract not account for infidelities or anything of the sort, Rei would also be in danger if word got out that I was romantically involved with her. I have a lot of enemies, Reno, and while some of them are just on the opposite side because they're not Shinsengumi, a lot more of them are twisted bastards who would do anything to gain an advantage over me."

Reno grimaced. "Including kidnapping or killing Rei, huh?"

"Precisely. Until this whole thing is over, she and I have to keep knowledge of our liaison confined to a select group of people."

"Right, right." After a moment's consideration, Reno grinned, leaned over to Makoto, and whispered in his ear, "So… how was it?"

Half-expecting Makoto to pull the broadsword off of his back and cut him in two, Reno was thrilled half to bits to see a deep blush shoot up out of Makoto's collar and bathe his face in warm tones. "Must I answer?"

"Naw, but I'd like to know. Was she wild? Did she bite?"

Just when Reno thought Makoto couldn't flush any redder, the gang leader raised the bar. "We had no idea what we were doing."

Cocking an eyebrow, Reno said, slowly, "So what you're saying is that you… and she…"

"We had never performed the act until last night, no."

That earned a long whistle. "She's never gonna let you off now, bud. Virginity's a big thing to girls."

"And why shouldn't it be? For that matter, why shouldn't it be a 'big thing' to us men as well?"

Reno held up his hands. "Hold on, I didn't say it shouldn't be. In fact, let's say I'm glad for you. It must be special, losing your virginity to someone you actually care about."

_That_ got Makoto's attention, though Reno hadn't really intended it as anything more than an offhanded comment. "So I'm supposed to infer that that's not what happened to you, then?" Makoto asked.

The redhead paused midway into a sentence, gave a short _ah_, and replied, "Guess so. Sure as hell didn't happen that way."

"What did, then?"

"Do I gotta answer?"

"Oh, please."

Reno winked insolently at Makoto. "Just playing with you, Makoto." He thought back, unconsciously assuming a more serious expression. "Yup, it was quite a while ago. I was only seventeen – real tender age, though I wouldn't have agreed with you then if you'd told me that."

Makoto nodded sagely. "Most seventeen-year-olds think they're immortal and mature and adult, yes."

"You know it – only I really _was_. But seriously, there was this girl." Reno closed his eyes as he dragged up images he hadn't considered in a very, very long time. "Real pretty. Red, wavy hair down to about her shoulder blades, thin, had an aristocratic face. Still, if she was an aristocrat, I'm the Emperor of Gongaga."

The gang leader laughed at that. "How old was she?"

With a shrug, Reno replied, "Maybe twenty, twenty-one? Older than I was, to be sure, and much more experienced. I met her at an official Shin-Ra function; she was the daughter of this old guy from some company or other that wanted a merger, or didn't want it, or something, and I was the fresh-faced Turk on security. Take a second and imagine your reaction when you're standing by the punch table looking out for trouble and all of a sudden this stone-cold fox comes up to you and says – and I remember this real clear – 'You know, I've always wanted to teach a younger man everything I know about sex.'"

It was Makoto's turn to whistle. "Obviously a tramp."

"Obviously. But would you have cared?"

"No."

"Exactly. I didn't either, and Veld – our old leader – nearly had my ass for it. But she _did_ teach me a whole lot."

"Was it all worth it?"

Reno gave another shrug. "Like I said, she taught me a lot, and after that I never saw her again. Tseng was nice enough to tell me that 'that lady friend of mine' got axed along with her father when Veld sent a squad in to 'convince' them to sign something or other that the old President had written up."

That earned a grimace from Makoto. "It must have been unpleasant news."

"Well, I can't say I was particularly thrilled, but my chances of seeing her again were slim to none, and even then…" Unconsciously, Reno slipped his thumb beneath his sleeve and felt the end of his prod, hidden there. To his credit, Makoto didn't miss the gesture, though he didn't react, knowing it wasn't a precursor to an attack. "I'm happy to be with Yuffie because she's _not_ a tramp. For a long time now I've wanted someone who's good for more than just a one-night stand, and she was perfect – spunky, reminded me a lot of myself, which is always a plus, and best of all, she actually loved herself as much as I do. That's hard to do, but she thinks she's the best goddamned person in the world and all life would stop if she ceased to exist, and I admire that."

"So you admire self-delusion?"

"Don't take it the wrong way, bud. She knows that's a load of bull, that she's exceptional but not perfect, but she believes it anyway, because that's how she keeps going. If Yuffie ever admitted that she wasn't the best, brightest person on the globe, I'd be real scared for her." Reno removed his thumb from the tip of his prod and ran his hand through his hair. "So, Makoto, now you know how it is."

"And I'm glad I do." Makoto shifted slightly where he stood and tried to avoid looking at the clothing store. "You love her for reasons entirely better than I ever did, assuming that what I felt for her could even be called love."

Reno slapped the young man on the shoulder supportively. "Don't think too much on it. You were young and stupid a few days ago, but now you've grown up. I don't take well to that whole notion of 'love is selfless, love is kind,' et cetera. That's bullshit. Love's about valuing someone just as highly as you value yourself, but not at the _expense_ of yourself. D'you follow?"

"So does that mean you wouldn't die for her?"

"That question's a whole other can of worms, Makoto. What situation would I be in where only one of us could live? I know I'd resign my commission with the Turks for her, though, and that's close enough for now."

Makoto was about to press the issue – Reno could tell about these things – when his cell rang. _Saved by the bell_. The gang leader gave a weak grin and flipped it open. "Makoto."

His expression instantly turned lethal. "Say _what_?"

"What is it?" Reno demanded.

"I'll be there in two minutes." Makoto flipped the cell closed and explained quickly. "The Orochimaru are apparently trying to get themselves back on the it-list with the party that's been sponsoring all the gangs – including the Shinsengumi, of course, but that's not important right now. They're trying to take down a statue of Lord Godo in a public square."

Reno's eyes widened. "Holy shit. I'd say this is a shade more important than waiting outside a clothing store. Let's go!"

He began to leap into Tseng's car when Makoto grabbed him by his shoulder. "Rei, Yuffie and Rude will need a ride when they're finished in there," he said. "Get on my bike. Anyone who wants to make comments can submit them to the point of my sword."

"Sounds like a plan. But don't you need a katana to do your little swordsmanship jig?"

"I don't need to call upon Shiranui-ryu to fight bikers in the streets," Makoto spat as the two of them climbed onto his motorcycle. "The Orochimaru that went after me I killed in a half-deranged state. At any rate, Shiranui-ryu isn't so rigid that I have to use the Kikuichi-monji to execute its techniques."

"Good. Awesome. Drive."

With a roar, Makoto brought the bike to life and sent it rocketing down the street in the direction of the square.

* * *

"How much longer are you going to be?" Yuffie called into the men's changing room. "You're not doing anything perverted in there, are you?" 

She was met with a Rude silence – Reno had coined the term and nobody had laughed, but it was spot-on. Then, after the silence had been given time to sink in, the Turk finally called back, "Thirty seconds."

Throwing up her hands in exasperation, Yuffie turned to Rei, who was going through a rack of leather jackets. "What kind of clothes did you give him that are so hard to get into?"

The geisha made an innocent face at Yuffie, accompanied by a fluttering of her eyelashes that made the ninja-girl feel distinctly unrefined. "Probably the pants."

"Pants?"

No sooner had the words issued from her mouth than did Rude walk, stiffly and very uncomfortably, out of the dressing-room.

He still had on his sunglasses and various piercings, but that was an end to anything familiar about his appearance. He had on an open-front denim vest, frayed at the edges, that fit snugly on him and revealed his formidable biceps, pectorals, and abdominals. On his wrists he had large, spiked leather cuffs, and he wore black, fingerless gloves. He had boots that reached to his mid-calves, but the highlight of the ensemble…

_Oh sweet lord of all that is holy and good and pure in this universe, Yuffie, don't look at his waist area_.

Rei had apparently issued Rude skintight black leather pants that were a size too small, and somehow he had managed to fit his powerful lower body into them.

Yuffie stuck her gaze squarely on Rude's face and told herself, sternly, to keep it there. "Rude… sweetie… the pants have to go."

There was a definite pouting noise from Rei. "Pity. I think they're the best part of the outfit."

"If you hadn't noticed, they'd be tight on _me_!"

Rude just stood there, looking uncomfortable.

"I think they give him a very biker-esque look. Put him on a motorcycle and you could ask anyone what they thought his profession was and they'd tell you their personal term for a biker gang member. Whether said term would be decent or not's purely incidental."

Yuffie flashed the geisha the kind of dirty look she reserved for Cloud when he told strangers about the time the _Highwind_ had hit a thunderstorm in mid-flight while she'd been onboard. "Yeah, the pants go. He's my boyfriend's best friend, you know. I got _leeway_, or something."

Sighing melodramatically, Rei waved a hand at Rude. "We'll find you some jeans or something to wear, Rude. Go ahead and get out of the pants."

The Turk nodded and started to turn around to head back into the changing room.

"STOP!" Yuffie screeched. Rude immediately froze, a lock of inquisitive shock on his face. "Don't turn around. Please, for the love of whatever deity you like to talk to before bedtime, don't turn around. Just… walk backwards."

Rude's reply was another silence, followed by a very slow, deliberate, and eye-boggling one-eighty. Then he disappeared back into the changing room.

When she was sure he was gone, Yuffie uncovered her eyes and gave a relieved sigh. "Phew. Some things I just _don't_ need to see."

She looked to Rei for affirmation and instead got a very dry, very prim smile. "At least he doesn't have to worry about being well-built."

* * *

Makoto and Reno arrived at the public square about two minutes later, just as the biker had said they would, and it was a sight to see. 

"The morons," Reno murmured as Makoto brought the bike to a stop on the side of the street. "If the police were ignoring them before, no way will they stop at anything short of a raid now."

In the middle of the rather large public square was a towering, fifty-foot stone statue of Godo, sword drawn, thrusting it skyward. Vendor stalls were clustered about the statue's base and throughout the square, forming a dense maze of passages through the otherwise open space.

From Reno's vantage point, it was easy to see that the Orochimaru had pulled out all the stops on this one. The sword's top half had been blown clean off, and Godo's head was lying on the ground in pieces, on top of an unfortunate stall that had been selling tsukemono. Orochimaru were climbing the statue, apparently intent on planting explosives beneath the upthrust arm to topple it down.

Outside the square, blocking the three concentrically placed roads in, were police vehicles with a score of armed officers crouched behind them, trading gunfire with more Orochimaru who'd taken cover amongst the stalls. Reno also spotted the light blue and white colors of some Shinsengumi by the police – no doubt the ones who'd informed Makoto of the developing situation.

He and Makoto rushed to the nearest knot of them. The gang leader drew up with his men and snapped, "Report, Kosuke!"

One of the Shinsengumi drew himself up and saluted, thumping his clenched fist against his right breast. "Commander Makoto, sir. My colleagues and I were buying some food when we saw the Orochimaru come blazing in. I called the police, thinking that they might handle the situation for us, and then we took up position here to wait for you."

"How'd you know we'd be coming in from this way?" Reno immediately demanded.

"All our cells have GPS trackers in them," Makoto told him. "Every member of the Shinsengumi knows at all times where every other member is. It's one of the conditions you agree to upon joining – this rule applies even to me." He turned his gaze back to Kosuke. "Continue, Kosuke."

"After calling you we summoned the two reinforcement squads that you see on the roads leading into the square. We also informed headquarters and told them to send in all available men if you didn't call in personally within ten minutes."

"Well done. We might actually be able to cut the damages involved here." Makoto gave the young man an abbreviated version of the salute, without the embellished striking of the chest, then ducked instinctively as a report sounded. A moment later the bullet pinged off of the top of a nearby police car that was providing them cover. "It's do or die for the Orochimaru, apparently."

"I just hope the police don't ignore this as they've ignored so many other situations," Kosuke agreed, loudly enough that all the nearby officers couldn't possibly not hear it.

Makoto turned to ask Reno something, then stared with unmasked shock at the empty spot where the Turk had been standing a moment ago. He swept the area with his gaze and saw nothing, except –

A moment after beginning his search he saw Reno's foot disappear under a police car. _How did he do that?_ _Of course; he took advantage of Kosuke's little moment of bravado and disappeared. No average man indeed_.

Taking a deep breath, Makoto decided that this was the time to give Reno a little backup.

He pulled the broadsword from his back and screamed, "FOR WUTAI!"

His men, even on the other side of the square, all took the hint immediately. All of them drew their swords and screamed it as well, the words rolling out into the square and making the Orochimaru crouched there flinch. The police turned to confront this strange behavior and found themselves confronting nothing, for…

The Shinsengumi had charged.

Makoto leapt seven feet over the line of police cars and landed in the square. Nearby Orochimaru opened up and he whirled away, crouching down behind cover, and grabbed Kosuke's proffered pistol.

It was going to be a busy day.

* * *

Reno heard Makoto scream "FOR WUTAI!" and grinned. _Attaboy_. Not stopping, the Turk continued to elbow-crawl across the ground beneath the stalls, slipping under tarps and tables, completely unseen. If the sponsor of the bike gangs had any balls at all – and Reno figured that a man or organization that was trying to subvert the government of the nation had to have balls – he'd be nearby, watching. Even as he moved, Reno was scanning the windows of the buildings he could see, searching for someone innocuously looking out onto the square… 

_Found ya._

In the second-story window of a nearby apartment building on the edge of the square, Reno could just make out a man, a foreigner, watching the debacle unfold. _Can't tell for sure from here, but he also matches the description Rude gave of the espionage agent at the meeting_.

Reno started to elbow-crawl faster.

* * *

Makoto popped up over the table he'd taken cover behind and fired three times, ignoring the twinges of pain his not-quite-completely-healed ribs were giving him. Certainly, they'd been acting up the night previous, too, but that had been enjoyable enough for him not to notice… 

_Concentrate!_

His shots went wide of their mark and he fired a fourth time, scoring a clean hit on the Orochimaru trying to hide behind the tarp of an akashi no tamagoyaki stall. Beside him, Kosuke fired several times as well, the last report punctuated by a sharp scream of pain from a short distance away.

Breathing fast from the excitement, Kosuke plopped himself back down to reload and asked Makoto, "So, Commander Makoto, did you have a plan in mind when you had us charge or was it in the spirit of the moment?"

On a hunch, Makoto whirled, and his gut feeling was confirmed as he shot the Orochimaru trying to flank them. "Let's just say that I was taking the safety off of a very big gun."

"I take it the gun's on our side."

"Now that I'm not bent on marrying his girlfriend any more, yes."

Kosuke was a good, smart, dependable young man that knew that there was a time and a place for everything. Probing questions about strange things your commander said on the battlefield were best reserved for the aftermath, when you and your comrades discussed the battle over cups of hot chocolate or rum.

So he popped up and started shooting again.

* * *

The espionage agent was watching the battle in the square unfold when he felt the tip of what felt like a riot prod press into the back of his head, then withdraw a moment later. 

"Hands up, pal. Try anything funny and you'll get a one-way ticket to shockytown."

Reno watched the man slowly raise his hands, waiting for the inevitable attempt to escape or disarm him. _They always try to surprise you when they think you least expect it._

And the man didn't.

That threw Reno for the tiniest fraction of a second, and _that_ was when the man struck, twisting around and grabbing Reno's wrist instead of the prod. Reno immediately started twisting as well, trying to free his arm before the man could throw him out the window, bringing up his foot at the same time to bury it in his opponent's gut. At precisely the right moment, the agent let go Reno's hand and pushed himself backwards, sending the Turk spinning away out of control. Reno hit a wall, hard, and whirled back around to confront the oncoming attack –

Nothing. There was the sound of footsteps pounding down a stairway.

"DAMN!"

Knowing where the man had to exit, as Reno had entered through there himself, he hurled himself out of the window, careful, careful – _yes_! Reno landed, somewhat precariously but safely all the same, on the large concrete wall separating the building and the square. It was a story high all by itself, so he managed to take the impact evenly. He dropped into the alleyway betwee the wall and the building a moment later and rushed towards the door.

The look of surprise on the agent's face when Reno smashed his prod across it was worth the elbow-crawling.

"Reno?"

Half-expecting another assault, Reno turned to be confronted with Grandpa Souta, who had apparently been on a main street into the square and had broken off when he saw Reno in the alley along the side of the apartment building. "Old man! What are you doing here?"

"I heard about the Orochimaru attack on the square in the news and came here straight away," the old mechanic replied. "Who's that?"

"Some guy who was taking a peep at the action in the square. He matches the description Rude gave me of the agent at the meeting in The Jade Dragon."

Grandpa Souta pursed his lips and then nodded. "Right. I'll take him to the police; I can carry much more dead weight than most give me credit for. You go and make sure Makoto's all right."

"Will do. Our bikes coming along okay?"

"Splendidly. They'll be ready tomorrow evening, as promised." Grandpa Souta pulled the agent up and slung one of the man's arms over his shoulder to drag him. "Go! After I've gotten him to the police I'll call up Rei and tell her what's going on."

Reno quickly pumped his hand and then headed back towards the square.


	16. Chapter XVI

Hello friends. Today I head back to our country's lovely public education system – its motto? "Ruining one, burgeoning mind at a time." I'll be fine though, no worries.

That cannot be said, however, of BTILW. The classes I'm taking this year don't give me much spare time. Is this the end of BTILW? Pfft, that's what the communists would want. (We're real big on hating them here. Just a thing.) What this does mean is that I'm renovating the update schedule to twice a week: Monday and Friday. That way I have the week to write for Friday and the weekend to write for Monday. If I kept the current schedule I think there would be a loss of quality, which I don't want. Now, without further ado, Chapter XVI.

* * *

"Well, that day went by fast," Reno said, blowing out a semi-labored breath. 

He, Yuffie, Rude, Makoto, Rei, and Grandpa Souta were sitting at a table in a restaurant near the square that had been attacked by the Orochimaru, waiting for their orders to be filled. The sun was beginning to sink beneath the horizon, sending yellow-orange rays streaming through the windows of the place.

The cleanup of the square after the Orochimaru attack had taken all afternoon, and to Reno's surprise the Shinsengumi helped the police get wounded to hospitals and clear away the rubble – they hadn't just been in it for the fight. "I don't run the Shinsengumi to cater to warmongers and murderers," Makoto had explained darkly to Reno as they'd shoveled rubble into a wheelbarrow. "We're here to help Wutai. We just can't do it officially yet."

Reno snapped back to the present as Yuffie said, "Not over yet. Our adorable little biker has to go to his meeting, remember?"

Rude, looking very dangerous and biker-ish, was dressed in a denim vest, spiked wrist cuffs, frayed jeans, and black boots. The fact that he still had the umbrella made the outfit look even more bizarre on him. People in the restaurant took quick looks when they thought they wouldn't be seen, probably wondering what a redheaded foreigner, the Princess of Wutai, the leader of the Shinsengumi, a beautiful geisha, and an old mechanic were doing seated with a man who was obviously a dangerous threat to society.

"Remember, don't blow this," Reno instructed Rude. "I got all confidence in you, partner, but Tseng isn't here to give us a pep talk, so I'm taking over for him. If you fail, Yuffie gets married to someone who doesn't want to be with her – and if she gets married to _Rufus_, he's going to have our asses so literally they'll be hanging above his fireplace."

"There's still something we need to discuss," Rude replied, changing the subject like Reno changed lanes – abruptly and without a signal. "The you-know-what."

"The _valuable_ you-know-what that we recently _acquired_?" Reno asked.

"What are you talking about?" Makoto asked. "You didn't steal anything, did you?"

"Naw. We just borrowed the Leviathan materia."

Grandpa Souta, Makoto, and Rei all got halfway through standing up in their seats before they realized they were in a public setting and forced themselves to sit back down. "You _what_?" the old mechanic asked, looking dumbstruck.

"Don't havta go apeshit on us," Reno said defensively. "Seiryū gave us his permission, after all."

That provoked an even more dumbstruck reaction from the three seated across the table from him. "Seiryū actually appeared to you?" Rei gasped.

"Yup. Tried to kill us at first, but then I managed to get him to understand that we were doing this for a good reason."

"'We' being…?"

"Yuffie 'n me. Rude was apparently out drinking with Karsk that same night."

"We were going to use the materia to bump Karsk out of the race for me," Yuffie explained. "But he and Rude booked a room at the Kanbe-ya, the same inn that me, Reno, Makoto, and Rei were staying at for the night, and when Reno and I were getting back inside we accidentally walked into the wrong room."

"And Karsk saw you." Grandpa Souta shook his head. "I thought you were a _professional_, Mr. Reno… but then again, the police are baffled by this case. Apparently you weren't the only ones who tried to steal it."

"The police here aren't really that hard to baffle," Reno snorted. "But yeah, there was a squad of guys trying to grab the materia when Yuffie and I went in. We took them out and then when we tried the same thing Seiryū got pissed until we explained ourselves. These guys were well-trained professionals, too – not from around here, either. Mercenaries, I'd say."

"Do you know why they wanted the materia?"

"Nope. What I _do_ know is that they were going to pretty extreme lengths to get it. I figure whoever hired them wanted it for ransom or something – to recoup his investment in the team."

"Makes sense," Makoto agreed. "What I don't understand is why they picked the materia – it would make more sense to take, say, Yuffie for ransom instead."

"'Cause I'm a lot harder to hold onto than materia," Yuffie gloated.

"If I were trying to subvert the government," Reno replied, ignoring Yuffie, "there are three things I'd do: first, establish a good financial base; second, get dissident forces – the biker gangs – armed and making havoc; third, screw heavily with anything the government's trying to do to fix the situation. Yuffie's right about materia being easier to hold onto than her, but what I'd use it for would be to force Godo to cancel the whole marriage thing. The marriage itself wouldn't be that important, but making him compromise his position and negotiate with terrorists would be – he'd probably be replaced at best, or at worst, lynched."

Even Yuffie, who out of everyone seated at the table had the least overt affection for her father, was slightly cowed by that.

The tension was broken timely by the arrival of their food. It was all fairly generic noodles and potstickers; this place wasn't as expensive or as good as the Scarlet Monastery. Still, Reno was hungry, and whatever filled him up worked. He'd had worse.

"You guys aren't worried about being seen with Rude before he shows at the meeting?" Makoto asked around his food after some minutes.

"You think bikers would come to a middle-class place like this?" Reno asked in return. "You noticed all the looks Rude's getting? Most of these people have only seen bikers roaring down the streets and shooting other bikers – the idea that they could actually be human beings with an _appetite_'s just too goddamn much for them to wrap their heads around."

Suddenly, all noise in the restaurant began to die. Grandpa Souta motioned at the television in the corner of the room, and they all turned to look at it.

It was displaying a newscaster, apparently reporting on breaking news. Reno leaned forward slightly and was able to hear her in the silence.

"…emergency session of the Wutainese Council on new legislation – Proposition 209, which would impose numerous restrictions on foreigners, or those who are not citizens of Wutai. Among these proposed restrictions are an eleven o'clock curfew, requirement of worn, visible identification, and inability to apply for citizenship. Furthermore, all foreigners-turned-citizens will be required to resubmit their citizenship papers for confirmation, and will be required to carry proof of their citizenship with them at all times. In other news…"

Reno opened his mouth to speak, but Makoto beat him to it. "What the _hell_?" he snarled. "What do the sheep on the Council think _this_ will accomplish?"

There was murmuring rippling through the restaurant, and at length one man stood up – a middle-aged man, who had been seated at a table with a wife and two children – and said, "I think it sounds like a good idea."

Immediately, Reno stood up and slammed his fists down on the table. "Just whyzat, mister?" he growled.

The man swallowed and then replied, "Everyone remembers what happened to us in the war. There's… there's no guarantee it won't happen again." He nearly choked on the last sentence, but managed to get it out.

"So you think discriminatin' against us is going to make us any friendlier?" Reno roared. "YOU THINK BY EMPHASIZING OUR DIFFERENCES WE'LL EVER OVERCOME THEM?"

Abjectly terrified, the man took an involuntary step backwards, but Yuffie grabbed Reno by the shoulder before he could continue. "That's enough, Reno."

He whirled to look at her, anger burning in his turquoise eyes, and Yuffie was staring again into the face of a man who looked at her and thought _weak knees, go for those if she attacks_.

And then he flickered and was back to normal. "Fine." Reno whirled back to Makoto. "Where's this Council of yours meet? I'm gonna go lodge a formal protest."

"We'll all go," Grandpa Souta said firmly. "This is unacceptable."

"You have to be a citizen of Wutai to lodge a formal protest, foreigner!" someone shouted angrily. "What say d'you have in how we run our city, anyway? You're just gonna leave after your vacation's up!"

All around them, people were standing and pointing angry fingers, eyes blazing.

"You don't care!"

"You're one of the ones that crushed us into the dirt!"

"Wutai's done being the foreign tourists' bitch!"

"ENOUGH!"

A new voice rose above the mob – a voice used to screaming command after command and seeing them instantly obeyed, a voice that carried power and authority even over an angry mob. The mob, of course, shut up.

"If he has no say in this matter, then I'll speak for him," Karsk barked into the silence.

"We keep running into each other, don't we?" Reno laughed.

"No accident this time," the Sub-General said. "I live near the Council hall, and word traveled even faster than the news could get their hands on the story – some of my men heard about the proposition and told me. I decided to find you in case anyone was emboldened by this news and decided that they needed some foreigners to pick on, and it was easy enough to track you here from where you were at the square."

The crowd continued to remain silent, but it was no longer a hush – it was an angry silence, and everyone could feel it.

"Lead the way," Reno growled softly. "Partner, you got that meeting in an hour – make sure you're not late. We'll take care of this."

Makoto handed Rude his keys. "Take my bike. Don't destroy it."

"Will do."

They moved.

* * *

"THE COUNCIL IS OUT OF ORDER!" Godo shouted, slamming his gavel. He stood on a raised dais at the center of the Council Hall, a large, circular building with a domed ceiling illustrated with a vista of Seiryū disappearing over the horizon. On the dais was a podium, and on it rested the most overtly threatening single piece of legislation he'd ever seen. 

Slowly, the shouting quieted down, and the various members of the Council – all two hundred and fifty-five of them, each representing one section of Wutai – returned their gazes to Godo instead of shouting at one another.

Most of the house was in favor of Proposition 209, the rest violently against it, and things were not about to get any better if Godo didn't find some way to diffuse the situation and get the bill denied. As leader of Wutai, he could nullify up to a full one-third of all votes submitted to him on an issue – in this case, eighty-five votes – to swing things in whatever direction he thought best, but with the dispersal of opinions in the Council at this point, even if Godo used his power to alter the vote it wouldn't make any difference. Proposition 209 would pass by a landslide and Wutai's path down to a second war would begin.

_I'm not letting this city be subjugated again_.

"Council members, we _will_ vote on Proposition 209, but I first urge those of you in favor of it to reconsider," Godo shouted into the silence. "This is precisely the sort of discrimination practiced by the old Shin-Ra and its allies against our people that precipitated the first war. We are doing nothing but repeating past mistakes – and the mistakes of our _enemies_, at that."

"They made the mistake and won the war!" one of the delegates disagreed. "I see no reason why we can't do the same!"

"That's nonsense!" Godo thundered. "You would have us declare war on the rest of the world?"

"What have _they_ done for us?"

Before Godo could snap back a reply, the doors to the Council Hall slammed open, silencing the gathering and pulling all eyes inexorably towards the six who entered.

"I'm here to lodge a formal protest against Proposition 209," Karsk announced. "These people will back me."

"And who would this riffraff be, Sub-General?" another delegate sneered.

"Princess Yuffie Kisaragi, her consort Reno, Makoto of the Shinsengumi, Souta the Cunning, and his adopted daughter Rei."

"Souta the _Cunning_?" Reno murmured out of the corner of his mouth.

"My title as granted by Lord Godo," Grandpa Souta explained. "I wasn't always a mechanic, you know."

Angry murmurs, by now a familiar sound, swept through the Council Hall. "Princess Kisaragi, having a _foreigner_ for a consort?"

"You got something to say to me?" Reno shouted, stepping forward. "Yeah, I wasn't born in Wutai. I was born in Midgar, and I work for Shin-Ra. You got a _problem_ with that?"

"Of course _you_ would come to plead your case!" the delegate who had called the group "riffraff" barked. "You and the Sub-General – both of you have the most to lose if this measure passes – which it _should_!"

"You stupid _tool_!" To everyone's surprise, it was Yuffie who stepped forward, eyes blazing. "Reno isn't in this for himself. If he wanted to leave, he'd leave – he's here to help _me_. He's saved my life tons of times, and he's a hell of a lot braver than _you_!"

"My courage is not on trial!"

Godo slammed his gavel down so hard that it snapped and nearly beaned a nearby delegate. The sound of the head clattering to the floor silenced the Council, and Godo discreetly took a new gavel from the podium. He'd had a compartment installed in it in the old days when every meeting was a trial to judicate. Sometimes he'd gone through five a day.

"Bickering accomplishes nothing! Sub-General Karsk, kindly submit your formal protest." Beneath his stern visage, Godo concealed his excitement. _A formal protest from a citizen carries with it nullification of a full twenty-five votes in favor of whatever the citizen is protesting. This may break the proposition_.

Karsk squared his stance, cleared his throat, and said, "I, Maximilian Karsk, citizen of Wutai for many years, hereby submit a formal protest against Proposition 209, on the grounds that I feel it threatens my rights and liberties _as_ a citizen."

"Your citizenship means nothing to this Council!" another delegate half-screamed. "You're on the same side as that foreigner Lady Kisaragi's fallen in with! You hide behind citizenship and your friendship with Lord Godo while scheming to bring ruin down on us all!"

"ENOUGH!" Godo roared. "I WILL NOT HAVE THE COUNCIL ACTING LIKE PARANOID, FRIGHTENED CHILDREN! ORDER YOURSELVES OR I WILL REVOKE EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOUR POLITICAL LICENSES!"

_That_ threat hit them right where it counted. They shut up, and Godo continued, "Whether or not this Council recognizes Sub-General Karsk's protest, _I_ am still Lord of Wutai, and _I _do. The protest is accepted. We will now vote on Proposition 209, gentlemen, and let fate take its course."

At their seats in the Hall, the Council members indicated their support of or opposition to the proposition, each one being transmitted to Godo's podium to display the tallies.

The poll was one hundred and eighty-one in favor of Proposition 209, seventy-four against.

"As Lord of Wutai, I am exercising my power of vote nullification to subtract eighty-five votes from the one hundred and eighty-one in favor of Proposition 209," Godo said, "and in addition, Sub-General Karsk's formal protest subtracts twenty-five additional votes." He keyed in the changes.

"Final results: seventy-one votes for Proposition 209, seventy-four against, and one hundred and ten votes nullified. Proposition 209 is blocked."

An angry roar rose up in the Council Hall, and Reno said quietly to Yuffie, "I like the way the process is carried out here. Fast, efficient. But the people need some straightening out."

"What are you planning to do?"

He grinned roguishly at her and made for the podium.

Godo looked at Reno, and there was no disguising the relief on the man's face. "We've barely managed to avoid what could be the catalyst for another war," he sighed, "but we're _angry_ about it. I don't understand."

"Lemme make 'em understand," Reno said to him. "Lemme speak."

After a moment's hesitation, Godo nodded and stepped down from the podium, Reno taking his place. The angry roar, drowning out the cheers in their entirety, rose to new, unprecedented heights.

Reno found the compartment with three extra gavels in it quickly enough. He raised one and slammed it down, over and over, never stopping his steady rhythm, until the head snapped off the neck, and then he picked up the next one and continued.

After four minutes of continuous, repetitive slamming, the Council finally quieted enough that Reno could speak.

"What the hell's going on here? I'm not responsible for what happened to all of you. Hell, most 'foreigners' alive today don't even want to remember the war. The ones responsible are dead. Ol' President Shin-Ra got killed by his own general, and Sephiroth's given up the ghost, too. The only guy who was involved in the war at all is Karsk here, and you all made him a citizen, didn't you?

"So what if I wasn't born in Wutai? Yuffie and I, regardless of how this marriage deal turns out, love one another, and always will. We've been through thick and thin, and she could care less if I came from Midgar or wherever. Do I gotta remind you that she lost her _mother _to Sephiroth himself? She told me all about it one day – she watched the guy basically whoop Seiryū when he was summoned and then kill her mom. Does she hold _me_ responsible for what happened? No! Does she hold Karsk responsible? No! It was war, and bad shit happens in war.

"Sure, that doesn't excuse a lot of things. But I say forgive and forget. You can't hold a new generation responsible for the crimes, real or not, of the old one! And let's not forget, however bad we were towards you, you were the ones who attacked us first." At this, Godo hung his head for a moment, a pained look flashing across his face. "Sure, like I said, that doesn't excuse a lot of things – but if you wanna repeat the past, just remember what happened last time. I'm not tellin' you this to try to intimidate you, or because I'm a foreigner, but because I'm human, same as all of you."

With a sudden motion, Reno pulled a switchblade from his pocket and flipped it open, and before anyone could say anything or move to take it from him he slashed himself across his left palm and returned the blade to his pocket, then held up his hand so all eyes in the Hall could see the crimson seeping down his hand. "I'm made of flesh and blood, same as all of you, and I bleed just like you, too. Remember this, guys, 'cause that's what all of us, Wutainese or not, are gonna do if this comes to war: bleed."

And he stepped down from the podium.

Remarkably, the Council was entirely silent, and the Hall remained that way until the sound of one person weeping.

Yuffie was swiping furiously at her eyes, sucking in breaths in short gasps. She looked around through her tears, saw everyone staring, and began to blush furiously until Reno pulled her into an embrace and held her head against his chest with his uninjured hand. "It's fine, sugar. It's okay."

Slowly, the Council filed out of the Hall, nobody saying a word. Godo briefly rested a comforting hand on Yuffie's shoulder before nodding to Reno and withdrawing. Grandpa Souta motioned for Makoto and Rei to follow him out, and Karsk gave Reno a formal bow, a gesture of respect from one equal to another, before quietly stepping outside.

And in the end, they left Reno alone in the Hall with Yuffie and her tears.


	17. Chapter XVII

Good morning/afternoon/evening readers. School's going well here, got no complaints as to classes or anything, which is nice considering it's senior year. That said, this update schedule is perfect, so expect it to continue. Chapter XVII for you.

* * *

Rude dropped into a seat in The Jade Dragon, leaned his umbrella against the table, kicked back, and waited. 

He didn't have to wait for very long. After about five minutes two men walked up to him and ushered him into a back room, where bikers from the gangs had been crowded in, all of them with umbrellas.

What surprised Rude, almost to the point that he couldn't keep his expression straight, was that the guy Reno had said he'd caught and had taken to the police was still at the meeting. It was the same agent for sure.

He looked worse for the wear, with a large purpling mark on his face that spoke of Reno's prod and several other bruises that probably had been "accidentally" delivered by police. He was also favoring his left arm, but he still looked mean as hell.

"Good of you to join us," he said.

Deciding to test the waters, Rude asked, "What the hell happened to you?"

"I was caught observing what went down in the square today by a meddler. He managed to knock me out and when I woke up I was in a police station." The agent shrugged. "Fortunately, it's just a matter of having a mole here and there. The police aren't too ineffective on their own, but with people in the right places, we can hamper any effort by them to hamper _us_."

_So there're corrupt police here, too_, Rude thought. _Better tell them that after this is over_.

Visibly recovering his thoughts, the agent plowed on, "Let's get started, then. We're here to discuss a big move that will show the population our power and destabilize the government. Any thoughts?"

One of the bikers, a native Wutainese who had a large red tattoo of the silhouettes of a pair of crossed broadswords on his bicep, spoke up. "The boss told me to tell you that he had an idea, and this was even before the whole Prop 209 thing today. He thinks we oughta target a foreigner – a prominent one."

The agent motioned for the man to elucidate.

"See, we got some foreigners that turned native 'cause they liked the culture, or they were fleein' Shin-Ra and thought this was a good place to take refuge, but some of 'em have actually gone'n made names for themselves. If we knock one or two off, all the rest might get uneasy and leave."

Rude kept his expression neutral, though the foreign-born bikers obviously didn't like this plan, as was evidenced clearly enough by their expressions. One of them spoke up: "An' what'll _we_ do after you pull this off, voidbrain? Some of us were actually born here, you know. We're only different 'cuz we don't look Wutainese."

"That's a moot point," the espionage agent said sharply. "I like this idea, but not simply because it'll boost the isolationist movement. If we can take out someone important, who's caused a stir, then it'll kill foreigner faith in the government. They'll start demanding additional protection, which the government will have to provide, thus creating an even larger hotbed of resentment towards foreigners in the population. When everything explodes, it'll be civil war at least." He grinned. "Wutai won't be able to muster a united government, leaving it vulnerable to all of you to take over. Our goal is accomplished, and you bikers get your wish."

"Why?" Rude asked abruptly, sensing his moment and taking it. "Why d'you wanna destabilize Wutai? You working for Shin-Ra or something?"

The agent laughed. "Shin-Ra? They couldn't find their ass with both hands if we painted it in reflective orange and gave them a mirror. No, all I'm going to say is that we're a… _private_ party. Call us revolutionaries."

"Revolutionaries without much interest in the government after the war. Sounds more like anarchists to me."

"But we'd be actively trying to suppress all forms of government if we were anarchists, my Shattered Hand friend. Or is this some new definition of the term 'anarchist' that I haven't heard about, mm?"

Rude leaned back slightly and raised a hand, palm open, to indicate he was backing down. The agent made a satisfied noise and turned his attention back to the rest of the gathering. "Anyone else got any ideas?"

"What about Godo's daughter's marriage?" one of them asked. "We got any plans for that?"

"Special plans are already in place concerning that, we're not touching it. We have an ulterior interest in Kisaragi, so whatever it is we're doing can't involve her."

"Ulterior interest?" the swords-tattoo biker asked.

"Let's just say that we're not looking to kill or mess with her. We need her to stay undamaged, so she's off-limits to everyone."

Rude resisted the urge to frown at that. _If these are the same guys who hired that team to steal the materia, what do they want with Yuffie too? Sure, the team hadn't been told not to shoot her, but why would you need Yuffie if you had the Leviathan materia_?

Before he continued, the agent frowned and cocked an eyebrow, then cupped a hand to his ear. "You guys hear what I do?"

Listening intently, Rude discovered he could hear nothing but the faint drone of the television from the outside room. "Yeah. They're all watching something important."

Quickly, the agent turned around and hit the switch on the until-then dead TV in the back, and it sprang to life. Immediately, Rude again quelled shock before it could rise up on his features; Reno was on the screen.

The caption scrolling across the bottom told him that this footage was shot only minutes ago at the Council Hall of Wutai, where Proposition 209 had failed and this foreigner, apparently Yuffie Kisaragi's "consort," had made this speech on it and the issues behind it.

"I'm made of flesh and blood, same as all of you, and I bleed just like you, too. Remember this, guys, 'cause that's what all of us, Wutainese and not, are gonna do if this comes to war: bleed."

Rude stared at the crimson running down Reno's hand, and then the feed cut back to the newscaster, who commented that in more breaking news, the entire city was rallying for or against the man's speech, and that he had been tentatively identified by various sources as being named Reno and working for Shin-Ra.

"You'll bleed sooner than you think," the agent laughed. "All of you. Tomorrow evening, the day before Kisaragi's marriage is decided. I want him dead."

* * *

Karsk, after Reno and Yuffie had gotten out of the Hall, had told them that he'd see Grandpa Souta, Makoto, and Rei back to the old mechanic's place and that Reno and Yuffie could go back to her home straight away. They drove there quickly enough, making it to her house by eleven o'clock. Both of them were bone tired, but not the sort of tired where you fell over and slept to cure it. 

Neither of them spoke until they reached the door. Reno opened it and said, "Ladies first."

Yuffie blinked and managed a smile before heading inside, while Reno entered after her and shut the door behind him. They stood in the cool darkness of her living room, lit faintly by the moon. Suppressing a sigh, Yuffie slumped onto a couch and motioned for Reno to sit down next to her. He kicked off his shoes, watching as she unlaced her boots, and removed the jacket he'd been wearing so he had a bit of air.

With a mischievous wink, Reno sat down to Yuffie's right and pulled her onto his lap, leaning against the back of the couch and the armrest. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled her legs in so she was curled into a shivering ball.

"You can tell me what's wrong, Yuffie," Reno finally said softly. "You know I'll listen and try to fix it up."

Sniffling, Yuffie nodded and swallowed hard to clear her throat. "What you said back there, Reno, in the Hall… It was so beautiful, and so great, but I would never have expected it from you."

He gave her a lopsided grin and replied, "Most people wouldn't."

"But it's not that simple," Yuffie said urgently, biting at her traitorously quivering lip. "There's an entire side of you that I don't know, Reno, and it seems like I'm seeing more of it every day. And now this… it was so unlike this other person, even though I wouldn't expect it from you, that it sort of got to me and made me think how paranoid I'm being. I just broke down." She looked bleakly at him, cloudy grey eyes searching vivid turquoise. "I'm not even sure if this other person I'm seeing is still you."

Reno pulled her closer to him. "You're not the first person to tell me this, Yuffie," he murmured. "Trust me, I've known about it for years. I never stop bein' me – I just start being a different kind of me."

"It scares me."

"It should. If there's serious business, Yuffie, then I'm gonna make damn sure that I treat it seriously. Normally I'm way too happy-go-lucky, so sometimes I gotta sober up and be serious." He grimaced as though from sudden pain, though that was obviously not the case. "I know it must be weird, but I can't help it. If something important's gotta get done, I'll do it, however I can." Gently, Reno took Yuffie by the chin and raised her gaze back up to meet his own. "Nothing's more important to me, right now, than seein' you through this, Yuffie. Wutai, espionage, my job, everything, all that can go rot for all I care. Not only does your dad doing this to you go against what little I try to hold myself to morally, but I also love you. I can't just sit back and watch this happen to you."

Yuffie felt more tears approaching, but she killed their impact with a smile. "You don't know how much I've wanted to hear you say those words, Reno."

He wiped the tears from her face with a hand. "If I'd known, sugar, I would've said them a long time ago. We've known each other for a real long time, but we haven't really been an _item_ for very long, have we? I thought…"

Quickly, Yuffie put a finger to Reno's lips before he could continue. "I don't care how long it has or hasn't been. I know when I'm in love, especially when I feel this way even knowing you've got some crazy psycho side that only comes out when you murder people."

"Everybody's got quirks."

Yuffie rested against Reno while he held her, and time passed like a slow current.

* * *

Makoto watched Rei move rhythmically and gracefully across the floor of her room, a fan in each hand, twirling and flashing, here hiding her face, here concealing some part of her body – the effect not to conceal it, but to highlight it, even through her kimono and past the fan. Normally there would have been a lower-ranked, less experienced, or apprentice geisha plucking at the strings of a shamisen in tune with her movements, but Makoto played a beat in his head to fill the silence as he watched her, and she began to sing: 

"_Narrowed eyes in white face_

_Pillar of stone supplying support_

_Gloved hand clutches lace_

_Whilst gaze rests on a lady of the court_."

That wasn't the entire song, of course; there was much more. Rei continued, and Makoto felt his rational side ranting at how only powerful businessmen and crime lords were lucky enough to receive private exhibition performances from geisha, while the rest of him ignored his rational side and simply sat and watched in awe.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered how Yuffie was holding up, but at the same time, logic rounded on him and rebuked him for doubting Reno's reconciliatory abilities. The man was exceptional, and Yuffie had chosen him for a reason. _He'll be able to soothe her. I don't want to see her sad, but… This is beyond anything I'd ever imagined_.

With a final flourish of her fans, Rei snapped the implements shut and concluded the dance with a bow.

Impelled by a force beyond any reasoning, Makoto rose to his feet, crossed the room to her, pulled her to him by her hips and pressed his mouth against hers. She responded immediately, the fans dropping to the floor as she grabbed him by the front of his shirt with one hand and by the shoulder with her other, pulling him closer, closer…

"Your bike's parked outside."

Makoto nearly fell over in surprise, and Rei gave a squeak of surprise that was understandably muffled. They pulled apart and stared, hearts hammering, at the dangerous-looking figure standing in the doorway.

"Didn't hear you come in," Makoto said hoarsely, an idiot's grin beginning to pull at the edges of his mouth.

Rude tossed him his keys, which he caught out of midair, and then said, "We have problems. My 'boss' wants everyone to kill Reno tomorrow night. They know he's with Yuffie, so they'll definitely check her house. Do you think he can stay at your place tomorrow?"

"Sure." Slowly, Makoto noticed that Rude's gaze didn't rest on his face, but instead much lower, down at his belt area. The biker looked down at his waist and realized that his pants were unbuttoned.

Looking back up, he saw the patented Innocent Vixen Smile on Rei's face. "How did you _do _that?"

"Trade secret. We don't _only_ learn dance, you know."

Rude cleared his throat.

Makoto blinked and shook himself out of it, taking the moment to discreetly button his pants again. "Sure. We'll make sure nothing happens to him."

"I'm afraid it may be more complicated than that," the Turk said, inviting himself in and sitting down. Makoto and Rei took the cue and sat down themselves, Rei casually retrieving a cigarette from thin air and accepting Rude's light.

"The agent mentioned one or more moles in your gang," he continued. "Sure, it's a safe place to stay, but what if all the gangs involved in this decide to join up and lay siege to your headquarters? Would it stand up to it?"

Thinking intently, Makoto finally replied, "If we could pick off enough of them when they were coming at us, then yes. But if they took us by surprise, they could storm us faster than we could react. We have underground escape routes, of course, and for our bikes too, not just us – but if there really are moles in the gang, then the exits of those escape routes aren't secure. They could even be used against us." He looked rather bleakly at Rude. "This really is going to be a war, isn't it?"

Rude shrugged. "All I know is that there'll eventually be a chance for me to ride down main street on my own armored motorcycle blowing shit up at random. Reno's got the master plan."

"With your disposition you'd think he'd be the brains of the outfit," Rei observed lightly, smoke curling from between her lips, "but you're no pushover either, are you, Rude?"

Recalling the occasion, Rude said, "Tseng, our direct superior, once told us how we complemented one another. He said I was bad at lying, but good at not telling the truth, while Reno was a great liar, but if it came down to it he'd blab any secret on the face of the earth." He blinked, slowly, behind his shades, and then added, "Plus, he couldn't build a bomb if you handed him a manual and a tool kit."

"No surprise," the geisha laughed, pixie-like. "Men never read the manual."

"Ba-dum psh," Makoto said dutifully.

* * *

When Karsk got back to his condominium, his men were all crowded around the single, dying television they had, watching the news. "You were on TV, Sarge!" Arcturus called as Karsk walked in through the front door. "So was that redhead guy!" 

Barking a short laugh, Karsk entered the common room and shucked his jacket. "He did very well – performed precisely the way I thought he would. Certainly not a sophisticated speaker, but he's very driven – and charismatic, when it comes to it. Now that the Wutainese public is focused on him, the citizen who actually _lodged_ the formal protest against Proposition 209 and by doing so broke its back will be a footnote."

Various chuckles sounded through the room, and David spoke up from the back. "You sure you want it this way, Sarge?"

Karsk nodded. "Yes. This way, our insidious enemy, whoever he or they might be, will be looking at Reno for the killing blow, not us. When Reno pulls them out into the light, we'll hit them in the flank with all we've got." His eyes shone and he beamed at his men, spreading out his hands in an encompassing gesture. "Just think, men. We're going to be able to fulfill the General's last order to the letter."

Cheers rose and Karsk let the tidal wave of noise continue for ten long, glorious seconds. At the end he raised his voice and bellowed, "ATTENTION!"

The cheers instantly cut off, and all the men in the room snapped immediately and perfectly to attention, arms at their sides, gazes straight in front of them.

_Time to get their blood boiling_. "WHAT IS YOUR PURPOSE?" Karsk thundered.

"SIR! TO PROTECT WUTAI!" they thundered back.

"WHY?"

"SIR! BECAUSE IF WE DON'T DO THIS FOR THEM WHEN THEY DON'T EXPECT IT, THEY'LL NEVER DO IT FOR US WHEN WE _DO_!"

"AND?"

"SIR! BECAUSE A SUPERIOR OFFICER ORDERED IT!"

Karsk gave a small hand signal and they relaxed their stiff postures but remained at attention, silent. "Good. Arcturus, Ayaro, I'm dispatching you two to retrieve the hidden armament stores I kept for us for when it finally comes time to fulfill the General's last order. Retrieve them tomorrow – I want all of us armed and ready to fight by the day after tomorrow, when I go to the Hancho game for Yuffie Kisaragi." He narrowed his eyes slightly and paused for a moment before continuing, to impart a heightened sense of importance to his next words. "Everything will draw to a close then – that much I'm sure of."

All the members of his battalion saluted as one, bringing their flattened palm up level with their forehead and stamping their right foot against the ground, the sound ringing out loudly and clearly. "SIR!"

"Carry on."

* * *

"_Do you mind if I join you?"_

_Karsk started and looked over his shoulder up at the speaker, the familiar deep tones instantly informing him as to the man's identity. Water sloshed around his unclothed body as he stumbled around to give the General a salute._

"_Who are you saluting?" Sephiroth asked irritably, wearing a towel around his waist until he got into the water. "We're off-duty."_

"_Sorry, General. Please do join me." Karsk looked back at the rest of the battalion, who were doing what could only be described as frolicking in the hot spring. Splashing one another, laughing, cracking stupid jokes – they were like children again._

_Gracefully – just like everything else he did – Sephiroth slipped into the water, leaving the towel on the ground behind him. He gave a small sigh of satisfaction and ran dripping fingers through his hair. "It's been a tough occupation."_

"_Mm," Karsk agreed. "The locals certainly haven't been easy to keep from fomenting unrest. Godo seems to be genuinely repentant, though – I suppose it's really hit him hard how much damage he's done to his city by threatening us."_

"_I hear you're being put on garrison duty here until further notice."_

So this is what he came here to talk about_, Karsk thought. "Yes, I am. There were… _complications _with the brass back at Shin-Ra."_

_Sephiroth turned to scrutinize Karsk, the water making none of the sloshing sounds it had when Karsk had moved through it. "You don't seem pleased."_

"_No decor?" Karsk asked, confirming that everything here was unofficial._

"_No decor."_

"_It's all politics," the Sub-General spat. "The President's decided to let who I prefer to sleep with affect his judgment about how to use me as an officer. I'm competent, willing to serve, and experienced – to stick me on a backwater garrison assignment for a beaten city is just a quiet way of getting rid of me, to show anyone that cares that Shin-Ra doesn't condone my particular 'perversion.'"_

_He heard the General snort quietly. "In my experience," the silver-haired young man said, "the interaction between people is a mystery, one I may never understand. Look at all of us here in this pond, naked as the day we were born, yet we accept it and interact normally because it's communal. I've always been different, but I've always shared many similarities to everyone else, and if you'd told me a month ago that the two of us would be having a conversation about you getting the short end of the stick for your sexuality, while we stood naked in a hot spring, I would have had the medics make sure you weren't concussed. We change, and we adapt._

"_But I don't think change and adaptation are only short-term. Things change over long periods of time, and perhaps the idea that copulation with only members of the opposite sex needs to change as well – and by extension, we'll need to adapt to new ideas. I, myself, represent a change, and how the world adapts to me will determine its future." He patted Karsk on the shoulder and said, "This city can't remain this way forever. It needs to be able to change and adapt, like the rest of us – so as your General, I have one last order for you."_

_Karsk straightened and regarded Sephiroth. "What would that be?"_

"_Protect this city by any means necessary. Whether from invasion, or civil war, or corruption, make sure it doesn't cease to be." Sephiroth's eyes unfocused slightly and his tone became introspective. "I still have a lot to learn, not only about the world, but about myself – my place in it, how I'll affect its future. One day, I'll figure it all out; why I was created, what I'm expected to do. When I do, I want you to be there to help me carry out my goals – so don't get rusty on me."_

_Karsk smiled and saluted. "Will do, General."_

_Retrieving his towel, Sephiroth hauled himself out of the hot spring and padded away, back to the building they'd been provided for lodgings. "Goodbye, Sub-General Karsk. We'll meet again."_

"_Goodbye, General. I'll look forward to your return."_

Karsk never saw Sephiroth again.


	18. Chapter XVIII

Good evening. It's probably not evening wherever you are, but it is now. I just got out of a Defense of the Ancients game, on Warcraft III. It's not the best map, but it kills time. I had the Enchantress, fine Hero, I had nine kills and two deaths in thirty minutes, I'd just gotten Boots of Travel to let myself teleport around the map, I was owning.

And then the host left.

cries himself to sleep, then wakes up and gives you Chapter XVIII

* * *

"Let me get this straight," Reno finally said, after staring hard at Rude for near a minute. "Now that I handed the Council their asses on a platter, and happened to do it on television, the enemy wants to kill me."

It was the morning of the third day – the next day was the Hancho game – and the three of them were seated in Yuffie's living room, Reno and Yuffie on one couch, Rude on the other.

"Yup."

"An' you want me to scuttle under Makoto's rock so I don't get stepped on."

"Yup."

"If you think –"

"Please, Reno," Yuffie interrupted, worry shrouding her normally bright eyes. "Don't be a macho prick about this. Take the offer and lie low for a bit."

Scowling, Reno looked at the Leviathan material sitting in plain view in a bowl on the coffee table that was filled with other types of materia. "This is no good. I can't sit on my ass at a time like this. We still need to find a use for the Leviathan materia, and…"

"Seiryū never said when he needed his materia back," Yuffie cut him off. "We may have already saved it from misuse, and I think that's good enough. For now, we gotta make sure that you get safely to the Hancho game, Reno."

"We should keep the two of you together at all times, then," Rude observed. "The guy said that you were off-limits, Yuffie, because they have 'ulterior motives' concerning you – which means that if you stick by Reno you might be able to deter any attacks on him."

Reno dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. "Or get herself shot while trying to do that. Not going to take the chance, thanks. If Makoto's gonna let me drink all his booze, I'll be more'n happy to oblige him."

Yuffie gave him an impish elbow in the side. "You're cute when you're conflicted, sugar."

"I'll take that as a compliment, because nobody in their right mind would ever insult any quality of mine, ever. After all, I am practically perfect in every way."

"But I'm the one with the umbrella," Rude pointed out.

* * *

The Shinsengumi base was much more stark than Reno had realized; he and Rude had only seen it once before, at night, when the lights emanating from the many windows made it a sort of welcoming haven, if you were looking for one. In the plain light of day, it was just a boxy, old, two-story warehouse, repainted in Shinsengumi colors and modified to have a garage on the top floor and a sort of social bar on the ground floor.

What he hadn't known was that there were actually two basement levels, for storage by the government of weaponry or other such materiel that might be dangerous to have aboveground in case of an enemy attack. Now that the Shinsengumi had appropriated the warehouse, they'd turned the top basement level into a barracks of sorts, while the very bottom basement level was Makoto's personal lair. Both basements had escape tunnels extending out into nearby sewers.

Expecting to find anything and everything strange and unusual in the subbasement, Reno was surprised to find that he was jealous of the place.

Makoto had essentially turned it into his own private study and lovenest. He'd done up the walls in soothing forest green wallpaper, covering the stark concrete, carpeted the floor in something rich, black, and warm, painted over the ceiling, put lights in all the dark nooks and crannies, and even gone so far as to blow a hole in the wall to construct a fireplace at the far end of the room. It was obvious enough that the fireplace was just a cover for an escape tunnel, but it functioned if you put wood in it. There were two well-worn leather chairs by the fireplace, a couch positioned in front of a television in the middle of the room, and a large bed at the end of the subbasement opposite the fireplace.

Reno immediately thought that the guy was one lucky sunuvabitch when he saw the room. Yuffie's first reaction, on the other hand, was to say, "It's like a room you'd find in Edge, not in Wutai."

The Shinsengumi leader gave a brief shrug. "It's taken me two years to get all of this the way it is now – the way I like it. All of my gang members have their own homes – the barracks on the floor above are just if they want to stay here for the night or if I need support in the morning for something. I'm the only one who actually lives here, so nobody complains about my having good furnishings."

"But why not a traditional Wutainese room, Makoto?"

Before Makoto could reply, Reno plopped himself down on the bed and propelled himself up and down several times, rocking the mattress. It made no sound.

"Nice." Levering himself back to his feet, Reno grinned at Makoto. "You got yourself a fine place here. An' as for the whole 'why-not-Wutainese' question, Yuffie, if you had a special room all to yourself to design, would you go with what you knew or try something new and bold?"

Makoto flushed slightly as he looked around at his accommodations. "My older brother, Jubei… Before the war, he would go traveling sometimes, up until anti-Wutainese sentiment got to the point where he couldn't go anywhere without getting into trouble. He'd always tell me stories about the places he stayed, talk about the weird eastern beds he slept in… I wanted to know, at least once in my life, the kind of experience he was talking about."

The grin on his face sobering slightly, Reno clapped Makoto on the shoulder and said, "You really admired him, didn't you?"

"Yes."

Still scanning the room, Reno's eyes came to rest on a katana, still in its scabbard, leaning up against the wall by the couch. "That thing yours?"

"Yes. It's the Kikuichi-monji, the ancestral sword of the Shiranui style. When I told everyone I'd begun training in it, following the ancient manuals I'd gotten from the Temple of Seiryū, someone left it in the room I was staying in at Grandpa Souta's house. I never found out who did it, either."

Eyes narrowing slightly in thought, the Turk asked, "You got ancient instruction manuals from the Temple with that giant statue?"

"Seiryū is also a god of war, Reno. The monks there have always kept records of our martial history. A sword-style as eminent as Shiranui-ryu could never be abandoned totally, even if the last practitioner – whose identity I've never been able to discover – didn't want to pass it on."

"Maybe he didn't want it passed on for a reason," Yuffie suggested, a worried look flashing across her features. "Could it be a bad style?"

Laughing softly, Makoto shook his head and motioned for the two of them to sit down on the couch, while he dragged a chair over from the fireplace. A moment later they were seated and he replied, "It's not the style that's bad, it's only what you do with it that can be good or evil. A sword's only a weapon, after all. It doesn't murder people on its own."

"Point there," Reno conceded. "But there's the old saying that power corrupts, et cetera. Shiranui-ryu's just another form of power, isn't it?"

"Yes, which is why I acquired it – I needed power in order to be able to bring my ideal of a strong, independent Wutai to life." With a small sigh, Makoto raised his eyes to the ceiling for a moment, contemplatively, and then added, "That metamorphosis seems to have taken its course without my help, however."

"Don't go bumming yourself out yet. There's a difference between a strong, independent nation and a strong, independent, and bloodthirsty one. You get elected or whatever into politics, Makoto, I think you'll do this town a lot of good." Reno kept his cool turquoise eyes fixed on Makoto's warmer sepia as he said, "The fact that you were out to kill me one day and had apologized and realized yer mistake the next really speaks for you. If all the politicians in the world were that honest and admitted their mistakes that easily, we'd be better off for it."

Makoto looked to be about to protested embarrassedly when a knock sounded on the door to the stairway down from the barracks.

"Enter," he called.

It was Kosuke, the Shinsengumi member that had reported at the incident in the square the day before. "Commander Makoto, you've got a visitor."

"Go ahead, we're fine," Yuffie told Makoto before Reno could put his foot in his mouth.

"Send him in, then," Makoto instructed Kosuke.

A moment later, Reno rose to his feet and exclaimed, "You!"

* * *

The espionage agent, watching the Shinsengumi base from a distance of two kilometers on a rooftop, pulled out his radio transmitter and spoke into it. "Still no change, sir. Reno and Kisaragi went in about half an hour ago, and then another man, a well-dressed non-Wutainese, went in about four minutes ago. I think they're holing Reno up in there."

There was a pause, and then an androgynous voice, clearly produced by someone speaking through distortion equipment, replied, "Excellent work, then, Mr. Jobs. Continue monitoring them; make sure that they stay put. This way we get Reno with little to no bloodshed on the part of our forces and we humiliate the young Shinsengumi leader at the same time."

The agent started and then growled, "How do you know –"

"Deman Jobs, former Turk, removed from the unit by Veld before even the current leader, Tseng, joined the unit. I know all about you, Mr. Jobs."

"It certainly makes the fact that you know all about the mole they've infiltrated in the meetings more believable."

That provoked a chuckle, though it could just as easily have been a giggle – the distortion equipment was obviously programmed to output both as a neutral sound so the speaker's gender was impossible to determine. "I _do_ have eyes and ears, Mr. Jobs. I would be a fool not to use them."

_Are this man's – or woman's – contacts that extensive? _Jobs wondered. _Doesn't matter that much, though. I'm getting paid well for this_.

"I better not catch any flak for my services rendered here after all this is over. When I disappear, I don't want anyone being able to track me."

"Nobody will be following you when you take your leave, Mr. Jobs. You have my word on that."

The transmission cut off with a quick squeal of static.

Jobs resisted the urge to swallow, packing away his binoculars and moving back down into the building. _If I'd known I'd end up dealing with today's Turks, I might not have taken this job_.

_Then again, not many can promise two hundred fifty grand, half up front, for my services. I've certainly done jobs for a quarter of that._

_Not any less, though._

His wounded pride mollified somewhat by the happy prospect of cash, and lots of it, Deman Jobs took the elevator to ground level and disappeared into the crowd.

* * *

"What in blue blazes are you _doing_ here, Reeve?"

The Commissioner of the burgeoning World Regenesis Organization laughed and pulled a chair away from the fireplace to sit in. "Nice to see you too, Reno. And you as well, Yuffie."

Reno eyed Rude's getup, an elegant, collared blue coat that extended down to his ankles, and observed, "Not a very interesting outfit."

"I'm working on it," Reeve protested, flicking at invisible bits of lint on his shoulders. "The complete metamorphosis of Shin-Ra into the WRO has been going for almost two years now, and it's going to take even more time still. When all's said and done, we'll need a new face for the organization, and the world isn't quite comfortable with Rufus again yet."

"Can't say I like the idea of working for you, though, Reeve," Reno drawled. "At least with Shin-Ra things are interesting. By the time we Turks start working for the WRO, we'll be distributing moogle balloons at parties."

"We're making plans for the Turks, not to mention Rufus and Shin-Ra's current command structure, to take positions in research and development, as well as military deployment," Reeve assured him. "We predict that, come one year from now, everything will be integrated and Shin-Ra will be just a sort of nightmare memory."

"This is fascinating," Makoto broke in, "but obviously not what you came to discuss, Mr. Tuesti. As Commissioner of this WRO, you must have important business."

Reeve's face fell. "That easy to read, am I?"

"Don't get us started," Yuffie teased him.

Clutching at his heart, the Commissioner groaned melodramatically and proclaimed, "You wound me, Yuffie. After all we've been through together!" Almost instantly he resumed a serious expression and looked at Reno. "You're now something of an international hero, Reno."

_That_ certainly wasn't what Reno had been expecting to hear. He'd been thinking that maybe there was some sort of fallout going on in Shin-Ra, or maybe Sephiroth had risen from the grave again. "Say what?"

"You certainly make a better orator than I'd give you credit for."

_Oh, I get it now_. "You're tellin' me that you 'n everyone else saw the speech I made to that lame excuse for a Council?" Reno asked, trying not to gape.

"Indeed. Apparently a third party pirated the satellite data from the local Wutainese stations and broadcast them to the satellites directing signals throughout Edge, Kalm, Junon, et cetera." Reeve began to look very much like a man trying his best not to grin and steadily failing. "Anyone who was watching any sort of television immediately had their program cut off by a broadcast of you walking up to the podium and making the speech. Owing to my transmission experiences with Cait Sith, I was working with Cid on a project Rufus has going to enable long-range wireless data transmission between computer terminals, eschewing the more common wired global network. Cid and I were taking a break, watching the chocobo races at the Gold Saucer, when you abruptly cut off the last stretch." His efforts to maintain a straight face failed entirely and he started chuckling. "I've never seen him so angry. He nearly swallowed his cigarette."

Reno threw up his hands. "Great. Not only do I have a bunch of bikers after my ass now that I've made that speech, everyone at home knows I'm really a big softy on the inside and Cid is going to want to stuff my hair down my throat or something unpleasant like that."

Reeve's eyes glowed merrily. "So, on the pretext of investigating the current state of affairs in Wutai that would prompt such a speech from you, I've flown here to tell you all about your rise to stardom. You could be a real top-notch public relations man, Reno."

"Pass. And I'd say get out of Wutai as fast as you can – bad shit's going down here, no doubt about it."

"I could tell. Almost as soon as I landed I was getting dirty looks. Things really have gotten bad here." Reeve looked around, as though to confirm nobody was eavesdropping – a common sort of movement in people who didn't do a lot of high-level classified stuff and thought it was thrilling when they got the chance. Reno resisted the urge to roll his eyes, though he saw Yuffie indulging herself and then some. "Tell me, do you know a certain Maximilian Karsk?"

Perking up a bit, Reno replied, "Yeah. It's a long story, but I actually do. Why?"

"I have a weapons shipment for him in my copter, from Rufus himself. He also told me to give him this." Reeve removed a small envelope from his sleeve and extended it to Reno. "You should probably give it to him. I don't know the contents, only that Rufus wrote it up, sealed it, and handed it to me with a mysterious smile."

"Sounds like a plan. Now you better get out of here – I'm holed up in this pit because some guys are gunning for me and they might attack at any time."

Nodding sympathetically, Reeve rose and shook Reno's hand. "Good to see you again, Reno." He turned to Makoto and shook the young biker's hand as well. "And it's good to meet you, Makoto. I think you and I will be able to help one another a great deal in the future."

"Always good to make new contacts," Makoto replied. "I'll have two of my men see you back to your chopper."

"Thank you." Reeve turned to shake Yuffie's hand and grunted in surprise when she pulled him into a hug.

"Be careful," she said after releasing him from what looked like a chiropractic session. "I'll buy you a drink the next time I see you."

Reeve laughed and made a small gesture of modesty. "I have no tolerance."

"Good, then you'll get drunk and I can steal your wallet and get into your office with your ID and finally figure out how you operate that annoying robot."

The Commissioner chuckled in spite of himself, shook his head, and took his leave.

* * *

"We've been waiting for this day for a very long time," Karsk explained to Rude as the Turk watched members of the Sub-General's battalion training in the backyard of the condominium. "General Sephiroth gave me an order to protect Wutai, and we've been lax because there's been nothing to protect it _from_. Now that there's a clear threat, we have to do everything in our power to combat it."

Rude watched the men effortlessly doing pushups with two fingers and a thumb, and wondered how many of those _he_ could do. "You all sure are eager."

"We've been out of action for a long time. Tomorrow will make or break us, I've no doubt of that. Regardless of what you say about this agent of yours wanting Reno dead, I'm convinced that the gangs are going to try to make an attack on the government somehow while Lord Godo moderating at the Hancho game for Yuffie. We'll be ready for them."

"So what happened to being legalized protectors of the nation and not vigilantes?" Rude asked.

Karsk snorted. "Says the man who was party to the theft of the Leviathan materia. I wouldn't go accusing me on the grounds of subverting the government, Mr. Rude."

Rude said nothing.

"I know you were doing it for a good cause," the Sub-General quickly reassured him. "Frankly, better it be in your hands than that mercenary team's – at least I know that you will return it after this is over. You bring up a good point, though. The day before yesterday I would not have approved of this action, but with the advent of Proposition 209, things have changed. The population is obviously so worked up against foreigners that even if we were employed officially by the government it would not provide an effective shield. The Council itself would condemn us." Karsk's eyes narrowed slightly, and his mouth twitched in a grimace. "In the end, Yuffie ends up in a power play of a marriage with three suitors, none of whom need or particularly want her."

"Feeling guilty?"

"I wish I'd seen this coming, I really do. Still, if I end up winning Yuffie in the Hancho game tomorrow, I can assure you I would not even go so far as to marry her. It would be a charade, and a wholly unnecessary one at that – I could tolerate being in a false marriage so my men could fight legally again. However, if we are never to fight with the sanction of the government, better that we fulfill the General's order in any way we can." The old Sub-General's eyes hardened and he murmured, "It's the least I can do for him, and them – the only people ever to believe in me and not my sexuality."

For some reason he couldn't really put his finger on, Rude felt himself impelled to take Karsk's hand and shake it firmly. "I'm glad to have met you, Sub-General Karsk. If nothing else, it was good to know you."

"My men and I call that 'pillow talk,'" Karsk laughed. "Soppy and sentimental, however well-intended. If you want to express appreciation for having known me, help me in this endeavor."

"I will. Reno, Yuffie and I have your back – I can guarantee you that."

"I'm glad." Karsk turned to survey his troops, all of them with their blood fired and ready for war. "Regardless of your feelings on war, the coming battle will certainly be glorious."

* * *

Rei shifted frustratedly on her mat. She'd been trying to sleep for almost an hour, now – even though things were going on, she had to work tonight at The Jade Dragon or risk losing her job there. The constant noise from the workshop below as Grandpa Souta put the finishing touches on Reno's and Rude's bikes was keeping her at the very edge of sleep, but not letting her step over it.

If she hadn't been only half-awake, she might have felt the presence in her room before it moved to her side, removed a pouch from its belt, and let the sleeping powder inside waft down over her face.


	19. Chapter XIX

Hoo boy. Crazy week. Apologies to everyone who's reviewed; I haven't been able to get around to replying. I normally make it a policy to invest my time in thanking you for investing yours, but you can't invest what you don't have. Fortunately the start-of-school crush seems to be fading now, so the situation will change. Chapter XIX.

* * *

Reno had learned, very quickly, that there was nothing good on Wutainese television. 

It was like a heinous pattern as he flipped through channels. Period drama, soap, sitcom, soap, detective movie, repeat. He wasn't looking for Markedly Poor Behavior In People Of The Female Persuasion, but he didn't want to watch some dry drama about Kishi Ouranosuke and the Seventy-Four Ronin.

"Go back," Yuffie said abruptly. "That's Noda Obunaga!"

"Who?"

The ninja-girl grabbed the remote – a feat, depriving him of the holy implement – and flipped back to a stern-looking man in a kamishimo outfit, talking with retainers. "He was one of the greatest Wutainese warlords ever."

"Lemme guess: this is a biographical 'based-on-a-kinda-butchered-true-story' feel-good or thought-provoking film."

"Yeah. It's called 'The Incident At Gonnoji.'"

"Gimme my remote back."

Pouting, Yuffie handed him the precious device, and Makoto entered with three glasses and a crystal decanter of something that was a rich, dark gold.

"Wutainese honey-bourbon," the gang leader announced proudly.

"Sounds about as ingestible as syrup of ipecac," Reno drawled.

Makoto sighed dramatically, accompanied by a drooping of the shoulders. "No taste." He turned to Yuffie. "A glass, White Rose?"

"Thought you'd realized that you don't love her," Reno observed automatically.

"That's actually my title," Yuffie explained, somewhat sheepishly. "I'm Princess Kisaragi Yuffie, The Single White Rose of Wutai."

Reno whistled. "An' it's Kisaragi Yuffie because…?"

"In standard Wutainese, last name precedes first. I have a title because I'm royalty."

"What about Grandpa Souta?"

"Souta the Cunning used to be a genius tactician before the war," Makoto said darkly as he poured the honey-bourbon. The sloshing of the drink in the glasses began to sound uncomfortably loud. "He resigned his commission when Lord Godo asked him to formulate strategies for use against the Shin-Ra. He'd gotten the title for translating some old military texts and flawlessly adapting their strategies and tactics to the modern Wutainese military. Ever hear of 'L'art de Guerre?'"

"Yeah," Reno affirmed. "I remember that Rufus was learning Gongagan so he could read it. Why didn't Grandpa Souta put it out in tradespeak?"

"He would have, except that Lord Godo didn't want the Shin-Ra reading it." Abruptly, Makoto realized that he was about to overflow the last glass and stopped pouring. "Here you are."

Accepting the proffered glass, Reno tipped some back. It had a sweet burn and went down like melted honey – he revised his opinion of Wutainese brewers from "kooks" to "kooks who bring those _blue_ sparks." No idea what it meant, but he liked the sound of it. "So in other words, it's Grandpa Souta's fault that Rufus was strutting around going 'juh ne say quah' and 'may non' for a month. And one time he said 'juh veuh coochey ahvek voos' to some random chick in a bar and got slapped."

Yuffie nearly shot alcohol out her nose.

* * *

Grandpa Souta called Rei's name as he ascended the stairs to the second floor of his compound. "Wake up! I've finished Reno's and Rude's bikes early and I'm going to deliver them! Do you want to come?" 

Silence.

"Rei! Are you there?"

Normally, Grandpa Souta the Cunning would never enter a young lady's room. Investigation asserted itself before propriety, however, and he carefully slid open the door to her room.

Her deserted floor mat, stripped of its blanket, was the first thing he saw. Alarmed, Grandpa Souta slammed the door all the way open and knelt by the mat, examining it for signs of a struggle. _None. Then…_ Looking closely, he could discern miniscule specks of a powdery substance on the pillow. _Probably some sort of sleeping agent. _

"Damn," he growled aloud. "She's been taken."

* * *

Entering Karsk's room for a second time was something of a revelation, because it became very evident to Rude that the Sub-General didn't just have cameras up in his condominium. 

He had them up _everywhere_. Screens were displaying views of streets, alleyways, government buildings, the Pagoda, even the interior of the Leviathan shrine. "How long did it take you to put all this together?" the Turk asked.

Karsk shrugged. "One or two years. More often than not, it doesn't come in any particular use, but sometimes we catch robberies in progress, people being chased, et cetera, and we can notify the police or move out ourselves if the situation is drastic enough."

"What's going on now?"

Pointing at one of the screens, Karsk seated himself at the console and hit a few buttons. "I've been keeping an eye on the Shinsengumi headquarters, since you mentioned that the organization we're fighting apparently wants Reno dead. In the past half an hour, Mern, our surveillance expert, has reported a forty-three percent increase in motorcycle traffic through the area. It looks as though your friends are casing the joint before crashing in."

"Bikers aren't that smart," Rude disagreed. "Even if they're being led by that agent, they should be yelling insults at the building, not casing it. I think they're waiting for something."

On the other side of the room, Mern, a small, pale-looking man, made a surprised, excited noise and then said, "Sarge, we hit the jackpot. Check feed seventeen-bee-oh-two-ess."

"Roger." Karsk hit another array of buttons, tapped in 17B02S, and hit the CONFIRM key. Immediately the array of screens switched to a view outside Grandpa Souta's compound – the camera was obviously placed in the alleyway to the side of the building.

It was easy enough to spot the figure emerging from one of the second-story windows overlooking the alleyway, gently easing himself out onto the eave of the building. He pulled a limp bundle out of the window after him – something wrapped in a blanket.

Before Rude could ask if Mern could zoom in on whatever – _that's the espionage agent _– the man was taking, it tumbled slightly before he caught hold of it, and a view of its opposite side made it easy enough to see Rei's unconscious face, the only part of her left exposed to the air so she didn't smother.

"Dirty bastards," Karsk growled. He held down a key and barked, "Arcturus! How long until we're finished unloading the shipment from Mr. Tuesti and the WRO?"

"About five minutes," the man replied.

"You have three and a half. Afterwards, you, me, Ayaro, and Mr. Rude are departing for the Shinsengumi headquarters. Our enemy is about to make a move."

* * *

"So, why did Grandpa Souta resign his commission when Godo asked him to help out against the Shin-Ra?" Reno asked Makoto. 

He was feeling very warm and content, no doubt due to the effects of the honey-bourbon. Yuffie was curled up against his side, napping, her tolerance obviously much lower than his or Makoto's. The gang leader was sunk into his chair, gaze resting wistfully on the contents of his glass – namely, two drops.

"What? Oh." Frowning, Makoto sat up slightly, changing his slouch into a mere slump. "It surprised everyone, I'll tell you that much. My parents were talking about it, too, when Grandpa Souta officially resigned. He was – is, really – so brilliant, and it's doubtful you'll find anyone more patriotic that's not insane."

"He loves Wutai?"

"It was his life. The reason he adopted Rei and I – to say nothing of the fact that our parents were killed – was because he'd never married. He was married to his work, as it were."

Reno frowned. "He keeps gettin' more and more interesting. First he's just a mechanic, then some sorta noble guardian, and now a genius tactician?"

"Being a mechanic obviously wasn't his first profession. At any rate, though, in his resignation speech, he said, 'Wutai cannot win this war. I will not have the blood of troops on my hands – I wash them of this war before they can be stained. I refuse to waste good, loyal soldiers in a fight against an enemy I cannot defeat.'"

"I bet a whole lot of people were calling bullshit on that," Reno said, peering through the bottom of his glass at Makoto, suppressing a grin as he used the distortion of the glass to make the gang leader's forehead swell to epic proportions. _I'm gonna have to take a bottle or four of this honey-bourbon home with me. Good stuff_.

"There was public consternation, yes, but the real shocker was when someone asked if he wanted Wutai to win or not – he said he didn't."

Reno sat up a little bit, too. "Really. Such a great patriot."

Quickly, Makoto shook his head, though it was more of a side-to-side lolling, with very little rotation of the head involved. "Not like that. He said, 'Even if we win, we will merely create an age where people only speak the language of death and honor with their blades.' He liked the capitalist system Shin-Ra was setting up, with fair transactions and no honor duels or anything like that. He wanted to see it happen here, any way necessary."

"So he was sorta planning for the future of Wutai, wasn't he?" It seemed absurd to Reno that any one man could have such clear foresight, but some things just weren't meant to be questioned. "If you guys hadn't gone capitalist and switched out of your limited monarchist socialism, you would've failed miserably as a tourist town and gone up the creek without a paddle. You probably wouldn't even exist today."

"That's another problem we were presented with that made people dislike foreigners even more," Makoto pointed out abruptly, switching gears. "After Karsk and his battalion surrendered, we were effectively freed – they _were_ Shin-Ra's garrison here, after all. But we didn't have self-autonomy anymore, we couldn't sustain our own population or economy. We had to open up the ports to foreign traders for the first time in hundreds of years. And nobody was going to trade with a socialist state – we had to get in on the gil standard, had to get a democratic government running because a limited monarchist socialism doesn't work too well when it comes to not being an autonomous state. In effect, we had to become foreigners in at least one aspect of our lives, and people hated that."

"It's for the best, though, right? I mean, things run more smoothly now, don't they?"

"Every time someone who made it through the war goes to vote on whoever'll be featured on the Council for their section of the city, they're reminded that we never came up with voting. The daimyo told us what was going on, who was in charge, and we listened and everything went smoothly. Sure, we were used to having a benevolent or at least well-intentioned daimyo – things would have gotten hairy if someone bad had managed to come into power – but the bottom line is that we weren't used to the choice." Makoto began to wave his arms. "Oh look! I can vote for any number of people! I'm expected to bear responsibility for my own outlook! Suddenly life's got more complicated!"

Reno snorted. "You're kidding me. People in Edge hate the provisional government we have set up because everything takes forever to get done – nobody agrees on what bills need to get passed, et cetera, and we're still hung up on making sure nobody can start hoarding power or money. Having Cloud and company bust down the door on anyone who's being corrupt in office isn't really a solution to our troubles. But what you're saying is that you don't hate the waiting part of the process, but the process instead."

"Exactly. We're not used to being actual individuals – perhaps to our friends, family loved ones, et cetera, but under government we're used to being just a great biomass, a bunch of people ruled by a governing body that makes all our decisions for us. The idea that we have to elect people into this governing body, and even regulate what decisions they can and can't make, is absurd. Are you getting this?"

"Yeah," the redhead responded placidly. "I can sorta relate. When Rude and I go on a mission, we obviously got a goal. But more often 'n not, we got a way we need to accomplish that goal – if we're taking some guy out at a party, we need to drop the chandelier on his head and make it look like a support failure. We can't just knife him when he's by the punch bowl, you know."

"Yes."

"Probably won't be doing much more of that stuff when we work for the WRO," Reno added wistfully. "But anyway. 'Drop the chandelier on his head' is a lot easier than 'Make it look like an accident.' Even worse, you got 'Make sure nobody knows it was murder,' or 'Make sure nobody knows it was you.' As you get less and less definite, the amount of planning, detail, improvisation, and so on that Rude and I gotta handle increases exponentially. Eventually it gets impossible, and it's better to just let Tseng effectively do our thinking for us."

"Delegation of authority," Makoto laughed, sounding just a little bit tipsy. "You're delegating back the authority delegated to you in the first place."

"'Zactly. We don't wanna be creative, we just wanna keep the job done."

Yuffie chose that moment to stir. She stretched, yawning, and covered her mouth about a second after she'd closed it. "Wow, that stuff was… how long was I out?"

"About half an hour," Reno told her.

She blinked sleepily at him and kissed him on the cheek. "You didn't write anything on me, did you, sugar?"

"Nope."

"We were just talking," Makoto added.

"About what?"

"Sex," Reno said quickly. Better that Yuffie think he was discussing fornication than politics and authority and stuff – he wasn't supposed to be a deep thinker. "Yeah. Kinky stuff."

Clucking softly, Yuffie tapped him admonishingly on the nose. "You better hold your chocobos, kiddo. I think you're getting ahead of yourself."

Makoto started laughing, which prompted Reno to say, "Naw, not at all. We were actually talking about how Makoto'd like to tie Rei down to the bed in here and –"

Before Makoto could attempt to kill Reno with heretofore-undiscovered eye beams, a furious knocking sounded at the door. He snapped out of his semi-stupor and said, "Enter!"

It was the guard that Reno had bribed the first night he'd been in Wutai. He panted for a moment, out of breath after apparently charging down all the stairs, and Reno took the opportunity to ask, "So, you get a pretty dress with that cash?"

"No time for jokes," the guard finally managed to wheeze. "There's a bunch of bikers lined up around headquarters – all of them armed. We're surrounded."

Makoto stood straight up, all traces of any impairment from the honey-bourbon gone from his face. "Alert all hands. Tell them to assume battle stations and get ready to ride if necessary."

"There's more bad news, Commander Makoto. It looks like the guy in charge – he's in a convertible – has a hostage."

* * *

Images and colors came to Rei first, in indistinct, blurry patterns. Sound followed, succeeded by taste – a bittersweet one, in her mouth – and touch, which revealed that she was seated on her mat's blanket in the backseat of a car. From the feeling of the wind passing through her hair, she guessed it was a convertible. An attempt to shift around and blink the gumminess out of her eyes informed her that her hands were secured behind her back with a length of cinched rope, but she was otherwise unfettered. 

There was the unmistakable click of a gun being cocked from beside her, and Rei stared in the direction of the sound, willing her eyes to make sense of the wildly shifting colors. Eventually they settled into the image of a stern-looking man, who could be identified as a soldier or a mercenary with ease.

"Please don't be alarmed," he said calmly, coolly pointing a nine-millimeter handgun at her head. "You're here as a bargaining chip, not to be harmed – unless Makoto decides to get noble."

It all clicked into place, and Rei immediately lunged at the man in a sort of impromptu headbutt – the best she could manage with her hands tied. She felt herself jerk to a painful halt as his other hand opened like a blossoming flower and snapped out to bring its palm squarely against her incoming scalp.

"Keep driving," he said before returning his attention to Rei, whose head he now held in a grip like death itself. "Try that again and I will have to shoot you – not fatally, of course, but you'd be surprised how painful a bullet wound can be. Enough, certainly, to keep you sufficiently immobilized. I trust I make myself clear."

"Crystal," Rei growled reluctantly, and he released her. "Where are we going?"

"To your dear friend Makoto's gang headquarters, Miss Rei. My contractor apparently knows how to put two and two together in ways I've never previously thought of – he reasoned out that you were in a liaison with Makoto from merely watching the two of you on television, it seems. I saw what little there was to be seen of the both of you, and I never would have been able to figure it out myself."

"Or maybe he just figured that both of us are adopted children of Grandpa Souta and that we're not related," Rei countered. "Going from point A to point B isn't hard in that case if we've lived together practically all our lives."

"I prefer to think that I'm employed by a fearsome intellectual, but suit yourself. I can work for a mediocre anarchist just as well – both intellectuals and anarchists pay in cash."

"That's what you're in this for? Money?"

The espionage agent sighed. "Of course. Ex-professionals like myself don't do these jobs for any other reason. What interest do I have in what happens to a pathetic town like this? When I'm done, my employer gets his anarchy, I get my cash, we part ways and I never have to come back here again. I also owe a nasty injury to the man you're going to pull out into the open, and while I try to keep myself cool, a bit of sweet revenge never hurts."

Rei curled her lip in disgust. "You're a monster."

That provoked a chortle from him, and he sardonically extended his free hand to her, as though she would twist around and grasp it with her own tied extremities. "Deman Jobs, ex-Turk for hire. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

* * *

"Let's go, let's move!" Karsk bellowed. "Arcturus, Ayaro, are you ready to move out?" 

"Yessir!" the two men shouted in unison, assembled outside Karsk's room.

"I've pulled up roadmaps and plotted the most likely escape routes for the man in the convertible and his hostage," Mern reported.

"Excellent," the Sub-General breathed. "Assign Doysdov to take up position along this route and blow the heads off of any enemies that happen to come through."

"Yessir, Sarge."

Nodding, satisfied, Karsk stood, checked his equipment, and turned to Rude. "Ready to move out?"

Rude tapped his shoulder with his umbrella several times. "Let's go."

* * *

Outside the Shinsengumi headquarters, a voice blasted out through a megaphone. 

"Bring out Reno."


	20. Chapter XX

Yup, I went to write all my peoples' review replies and bzzzzt. The site was downed like a crack addict in a rehab center. I don't know if I'll even be able to update this until tomorrow afternoon, so this update may be late. C'est la vie. (As it turns out, it is. Apologies and such.)

In other news, the Crocodile Guy just died to a stingray while filming an underwater documentary. No jokes here, he died doing what he loved and he will be missed by his family and his fans. May he rest in peace.

With somber proceedings out of the way, Chapter XX.

* * *

Makoto pounded up the stairway to the second floor, moved past his assembled gang members and their bikes, and ran to the largest window. 

Outside he saw dozens of enemy gang members, all on their bikes, parked in encirclement formation around his headquarters, blocking every way in and out. In front of him, below, was the only car in sight: a convertible with a driver and two people in the back seat.

"REI!"

"Don't move, Mr. Makoto," the man sitting next to Rei said through the megaphone he held. "All it takes is for me to be unpleasantly surprised and Ms. Rei gets a bullet through her heart."

Makoto's lips pulled back from his teeth and he stared with unbridled malevolence at the man. "WHO ARE YOU?"

"My name is my own business, and not relevant to these negotiations. I am here to propose a civilized trade, Mr. Makoto."

"I'M LISTENING!"

"Certainly you recognize the value of this young woman's life. I offer her in exchange for the seditionist you are currently harboring in your subbasement. My employer's more uncouth allies will get their catharsis and you will receive your lover. Do these terms sound acceptable to you?"

"GO TO HELL!" Makoto roared, dropping into a ready stance, thumb pushing the habaki of the Kikuichi-monji out of its scabbard, readying it for a draw.

"I'd advise against this rather rash course of action, Mr. Makoto. I hold Ms. Rei's life and death in my hand, and if –"

The man didn't get a chance to finish his sentence, because that was when a monumental explosion sounded from behind him. Startled, he looked over his shoulder for the briefest moment.

Makoto didn't miss his opportunity. His eyes snapped open, his _ki_ blossomed outwards, and he sprang from the two-story window, spirit energy cascading through him.

"SHIRANUI-RYU: SAYAKAZE!"

He drew the Kikuichi-monji in midair, releasing his hand from its scabbard at the same time, the enormous momentum of his leap and the power of the spirit energy combining to send the scabbard rocketing off of the blade into a collision course with the man holding Rei hostage.

The guy was good. His head snapped back around, his arm came up from where it had been nestling a nine-millimeter pistol against Rei's side, and he fired three times. The scabbard took all three bullets in the nose and had its course slanted sharply downwards. It punched straight through the hood of the convertible and into the coolant valve. Searing hot steam erupted in a cascading fountain, blowing right through the windshield and flash-frying the driver, not to mention filling him full of glass shrapnel.

Makoto landed heavily in a crouch on the the front two seats, slamming the convertible onto its forward wheels. Metal crunched as the suspension gave way and hydraulic fluid began pouring out of the car. Its tail end rose into the air before coming back down again with a thundering crash.

The espionage agent had been bringing his pistol back around to give Rei a radical facial when Makoto landed. He was thrown completely from the car in an arc that took him barely over the venting cloud of superheated steam roaring from the engine and then was deposited, roughly, on his back on the asphalt. A split second later he was on his feet again, pistol pointed at where Makoto had been a moment before.

Thinking quickly, the gang leader had grabbed Rei out of midair with one hand as she'd been thrown in an identical arc and then leaped up and over the tail end of the convertible, hitting the ground running, adrenaline pumping through him. Another leap took him over the outer ring of enemy bikers, who were just starting to get their asses in gear and pull their guns, and then he was relatively home free.

"SHINSENGUMI LAUNCH!" he screamed over his shoulder.

All the walls on the second floor of the Shinsengumi headquarters immediately slid down into hidden recesses beneath them, aided by gravity, clearing the way within a half-second for the Shinsengumi to rocket out and rain down on the enemy from the sky.

Dropping an entire story to hard tarmac was one hell of a feat, but every member had trained until they did it without error. Makoto ran a tight ship, and now it came lumbering out of the sky to deliver a full barrage to the unsuspecting enemy. As they flew, the Shinsengumi pulled guns and opened fire.

Before the foe could retaliate, they were on the ground, wheels screaming and then pushing them forward, and they broke through the encirclement and out into the streets, moving out to loop around and come in for more passes.

As Deman Jobs watched, his force was crumbling.

But that _was_ what he expected.

* * *

Breathing hard, Makoto stumbled into a relatively secluded alleyway and set Rei down on her feet. A flick of the Kikuichi-monji severed the bindings on her wrists. 

"Did he hurt you?" Makoto growled. "Name any one injury and I'll give him ten."

He almost dropped his sword when Rei pulled him into a fierce hug and covered his mouth with her own. Half of his mind kept an ear out for the sound of enemy approach while the other half was lost in her fiery taste.

It was a good thing only half his mind was preoccupied, because it enabled him to hear the oncoming motorcycle. Makoto disengaged from Rei, pushing her against the alleyway wall, turned, and cut the enemy off of his bike as he tried to run him over.

"I'm fine," Rei said, somewhat breathlessly. "What about you?"

"No worries, here."

"Good. What about Reno? He's the one that Jobs is here for."

Makoto's brow creased. "Jobs?"

"The man said his name was Deman Jobs. Do you recognize it?"

The gang leader replied with a shake of his head. "No, it doesn't ring any bells. It might for Reno, though… But he's supposed to be staying in the subbasement. I have a unit still on the ground floor to make sure nobody gets in."

Too late, he heard pounding footfalls on the buildings which made up the walls of the alleyway. They were only one story tall, so it was easy enough for a biker to jump off of each of them at Makoto, booted feet first. He could only cut one of them out of the air before the other got him, and he couldn't move fast enough to evade both.

At the same moment, Rei's startled cry was drowned out by the sound of tires squealing on pavement as something skidded to a halt outside of the alleyway, then all sound was eclipsed by the report of two N17B assault rifles opening up, full blast.

The bikers jumping down at Makoto didn't even have time to be surprised. They were chopped into hash by the bullets and thrown violently down the alleyway before they could look shocked. In the aftermath, Makoto and Rei both stared at the machine – more like the _beast_ – parked facing down the alley.

It was five feet tall and seven feet long, made entirely of gleaming titanium so finely polished it seemed to be chrome. Smooth curves predominated the body, while the two wheels, each with contact pads the size of a man's head, thrust out from the silvery mass like obsidian eclipses. Protruding from two side slots in the main chassis were the barrels of the assault rifles that had killed the bikers – they were built into the frame of the machine itself, capable of being extended, aimed via a joystick on the dashboard, and fired. The ammunition chambers were two bulges in the back, parallel to the lines of the rest of the vehicle, and something that Makoto couldn't quite make out hung beneath the bottom of the bike, amidst the suspension.

Astride the beast was Rude, a third N17B slung across his back, umbrella nestled in an alcove in the side of the bike designed for a sword. He stared over the tops of his glasses at Makoto and Rei for a moment and then said, his voice very loud in the quiet following the storm, "Quit making out and get a move on."

* * *

Karsk took up position on a roof from where the Shinsengumi headquarters and the surrounding streets were easily visible. He pulled out his radio transmitter and said, "Arcturus, Ayaro, do you copy?" A pair of "roger"s squawked from the device. "Arcturus, get to the Shinsengumi roof and set up your heavy chaingun there. I've had Doysdov abandon his position and move closer to give you sniping cover. Ayaro, set up remote mines ringing the headquarters every fifteen meters. If it comes in and it's unfriendly, we need it blown up." 

Instinctively, Karsk ducked when the sound of gunfire swelled nearby, and unsurprisingly Grandpa Souta did the same. The two men looked down at the street some four stories below and saw two Shattered Hand bikers roaring down it back towards the Shinsengumi headquarters, looking to catch a pair of Shinsengumi bikers in a flanking maneuver.

Rude had other thoughts. Like a silver bullet, he dropped in behind them from a side alleyway and opened up with his N17Bs. They stood about a snowball's chance in hell.

"Hopefully Reno appreciates his bike half as much as his partner," Grandpa Souta observed. He scanned the streets and said, "Rude has three incoming enemies – they've gotten a bead on him."

"Rude, three incoming," Karsk relayed.

"Roger."

Rude twisted the bike around and gunned the engine, sending it rocketing down another side street to close even with his would-be attackers. One of them swerved out of the way of his collision threat and ended up eating pavement, as well as leaving a nice red streak for at least twelve meters. Dropping in behind the second, Rude gave him a taste of the N17Bs.

The last one, knowing that trying for a ranged battle was suicide, pulled a broadsword and swerved in close.

Immediately the umbrella was in Rude's hand. He took the slash of the broadsword on the umbrella's point, spun it away so it didn't damage the implement, and riposted, catching the biker square in the chest and throwing him from his bike.

"Good show," Grandpa Souta laughed.

* * *

Deman Jobs had elbow-crawled his way to the front entrance of the Shinsengumi headquarters. He saw the bald Turk spin his way into the street around the headquarters, do a one-eighty, and blast his way back down the street he'd came from, assault rifles blazing, and decided to move. 

Rising, he shot the lock off of the door and kicked it open, then immediately stepped back and reloaded as a hail of gunfire spewed out of the open doorway. A second after it quieted he whipped a flashbang out of his sleeve, pulled the pin, and tossed it inside.

It gave a loud _whump_ and Jobs stepped inside, pistol raised. There were eleven bikers, all with weapons pointed at the door, all crouching behind various upended tables or the bar, and all of them blinded by the light from the flashbang.

Jobs shot them all in rapid succession.

* * *

Karsk saw the white flash appear through the doorway into the Shinsengumi headquarters. He didn't take much note of it until he realized that the doorway shouldn't be open at all. 

"Problem," Grandpa Souta immediately said.

"I see it too." The Sub-General snapped up his binoculars and peered into the doorway, managing to discern a figure standing inside. He snapped into his radio transmitter, "Doysdov! Shinsengumi headquarters, front door, person inside! Take him!"

No response.

Karsk stared at the radio transmitter. "Doysdov!"

A pained look passing over his face, Grandpa Souta took the transmitter and binoculars from Karsk. "Go see what's happened. I'll direct Mr. Arcturus and Mr. Ayaro."

With a hasty nod of thanks, Karsk dredged up the map of the area in his mind, pinpointed where he'd had Doysdov set up, and started heading from roof to roof.

In the distance, sirens wailed.

* * *

The ammunition gauge on Rude's dashboard told him that his dual-mounted N17B rifles only had 132 rounds left to split between them – and these fired full-auto, three bullets a second, not three-round bursts. Forty-four seconds of sustained fire left. 

He also had the one on his back, of course, but he only had two clips for it, and it _had _been modified to fire three-round bursts – not the kind of setup you wanted in a high-speed firefight on wheels. You needed to spray bullets, not ration them.

Some distance down the street he was on, Rude could see an oncoming group of bikers. All of them were armed with swords and looked intent on running him down, regardless of the cost to themselves. He could easily take them all out with his N17Bs, but he felt like doing something else.

_Wheelie time_.

Rude hauled his beast up onto its hind wheel, its fore wheel spinning in the air, and the module on the bottom of his bike dropped down into position. With nothing more than a small grunt of satisfaction and a faint thought that this had better not screw up, Rude hit the big red button.

The rocket-propelled grenade launcher that Grandpa Souta had grafted into the underside of Rude's motorcycle belched flame and sent an explosive warhead screaming at the group of bikers rushing at him.

_Boom_.

* * *

Karsk landed on the roof that Doysdov had taken position on to find a bloody mess. 

His late sniping expert lay dead, blood pooling out from beneath him from multiple stab wounds to his back. Standing over him were two bikers, armed with shortswords, who were bickering over who would get the dead man's impressive high-powered sniper rifle.

Seeing red, Karsk screamed a battle cry and charged without thinking about drawing his sidearm. Of course casualties were to be expected in war, and of course he was resigned to losing soldiers, but…

_He was stabbed in the back by worthless punks who are now arguing over who gets to loot his body_.

Both bikers whirled and tried to defend themselves. The base of Karsk's flattened palm smashed in the first one's nose, snapping his head back and rolling his eyes up until only the whites showed. The second one tried a thrust at Karsk's head, which failed miserably. Acting on instinct, the Sub-General ducked beneath the blade even as he was withdrawing his hand from the first biker's face, twisted around beneath it, and came up, slapping the side of the blade with his firearm. The biker, riding on momentum, stumbled to the side, opening himself up to the crushing kick to his spine that Karsk delivered a moment later.

A building away, another biker, who'd been assigned roof duty by his superiors and not allowed to ride his bike, took a bead on Karsk's head. He was ripped apart before he could fire as Arcturus, stationed on the roof of the Shinsengumi headquarters, opened up with his heavy chaingun.

* * *

Deman Jobs rammed open the door into the subbasement and immediately brought his niner up to press the muzzle against Reno's temple. 

Too slow. Reno had pulled his Derringer and was pointing it between Jobs' eyes, and Yuffie had produced throwing stars in both hands and was ready to throw.

"So, nice to see you again," Reno laughed. "Never got your name."

"Deman Jobs," the agent replied easily. "Ex-Turk."

"No wonder you're good. You knew Veld?"

"Knew him? He's the one who expelled me from the unit. Apparently extorting extra money from Shin-Ra clients after doing jobs for them wasn't 'professional.'"

"Shame on you, really."

Jobs struck. He let his knees fall out from under him, bringing him to the floor. Reno instinctively fired and shot nothing but air, while Jobs pulled his pistol around to get a bead on Yuffie and fired.

She saw it coming and was twisting away, but blood flew from her side before she managed to dive behind the couch. In his head, Jobs cursed; it was just a cosmetic wound, painful but not life-threatening or even incapacitating.

Reno was swearing aloud and slipping his riot prod from his sleeve as Jobs continued his fall. He rolled onto his back, bringing up and straightening his previously limp legs to deliver a solid kick to Reno's jaw. The redhead stumbled and slammed into the wall, stunned for a moment, while Jobs took the opportunity to level his niner at the couch Yuffie was hiding behind and empty his clip into it. Midway through there was a yelp of pain.

Turquoise eyes blazed with fury and Reno lashed out in a kick that was supposed to take Jobs in the side, but the ex-Turk continued his backwards motion, going into a reverse roll that brought him up to his feet back through the doorway. He reversed his momentum and ran forward, expecting the riot prod strike at his face.

He expected wrong. Reno broadsided him right in the gut with it, though Jobs twisted away too fast for the redhead to apply any juice. He let his movement continue, pulling away from Reno, giving himself room to pull a fast reload on his niner –

The prod came shooting at him and blew the gun out of his hands. Reno was following it in a grand kick that Jobs managed to catch under his arm, twist –

Obviously this had happened before to Reno, in another fight, he responded almost automatically, letting the twist pull him into a midair spiraling kick that took Jobs in the side of his head –

Jobs dropped the leg pinioned between his arm and torso, stumbling to the side, ear ringing –

Reno reached around as he fell and grabbed his prod from the floor, came up with the rod extended in a thrust for Jobs' torso, the ex-Turk went for a full-on, closed-fist swing at the redhead's face, whoever connected would win it –

All the hair on Deman Jobs' body stood straight up and he spasmed dramatically for one long moment before dropping unconscious to the floor.

Not even bothering to gloat, Reno rushed to the couch, dreading what he would find behind it.

* * *

The radio transmitter in Grandpa Souta's grip crackled and Rude's voice came on. "The bikers are in full retreat, Karsk." 

"Grandpa Souta here," the old mechanic said quickly. "Karsk went to investigate the loss of contact with one of his men. Are the police here yet?"

"No. Two minutes, I'd say. Lousy response time."

"Good." Switching gears, Grandpa Souta quickly ordered, "Mr. Ayaro, please disarm your remote mines. The enemy is retreating and the police are inbound. We don't want any accidents happening here."

"Roger that," the explosives expert replied. "What's Sarge's status?"

* * *

Not bothering to arrest the tears in his eyes, Karsk knelt beside Doysdov's body and cradled the man's head, closing his eyes, before returning him to the concrete of the roof. 

"Rest in peace, soldier," Karsk murmured. "Rest in peace."

* * *

Yuffie hissed as she hauled herself up from behind the couch. There were two long, bleeding swaths across her right side and a bullet in her left shoulder. 

"We need to get you to a hospital," Reno observed as he helped her up. "We can't use any Cure materia on you until that bullet's removed."

Waving a hand dismissively and instantly regretting the movement, Yuffie replied, "Not now. We gotta make sure everyone else is okay first. I can manage." She smiled bravely at him, trying not to wince.

Reno smiled back and then looked at Jobs. "He's gonna regret shooting you, Yuffie. I doubt there'll be anything he'll regret more."

"Save the macho-ism for later, sugar. We gotta interrogate him, get what he knows. _Then_ you can cut his balls off."

Eyes lighting up at that particular prospect, Reno rested his hand on Yuffie's unhurt shoulder and kissed her. "I love you, Yuffie."

"I love you, too, Reno."


	21. Chapter XXI

Good day, readers. I've been sick. My nose hasn't been able to decide which nostril to be stuffed in, so it went for the gold and decided to do both. My eyes water just remembering it. And the cough! Woo. Triaminic was about as much help as rubbing myself in vegetable oil, drinking turpentine, or maybe eating a spiderweb – whichever home remedy you prefer. And no way was I taking Tussin DM. That stuff is the scourge of Humanity. When we get to the Apocalypse, the Four Horsemen are just going to uncap a bottle of Tussin and pour it into the oceans. Boom, we all die.

Chapter XXI.

* * *

Several hours had passed since the thing that the police were calling "gang violence." Anyone who saw the official report on television saw some numbers, property damage, and gang violence. That was nowhere near as exciting as a shadowy organization trying to cap Reno for making an influential speech, so there was no panic and the strange red-headed foreigner – not to mention Princess Kisaragi's forthcoming marriage – stayed in the spotlight. 

At the moment, Reno, Yuffie, Rude, Makoto, Rei, Karsk, and Grandpa Souta were all gathered on the second floor of the Shinsengumi headquarters, having a friendly chat with Deman Jobs.

First things first, Reno had said.

"I really am sorry," Jobs said over his shoulder.

"Really," Reno laughed. "You are?"

"Indubitably, almost inexpressibly. I hereby do apologize for the infliction of any and all wounds upon your person and the persons of your fellows. I also apologize for any negative comments I may have made about you or negative thoughts I entertained. I will also endeavor to avoid these unpleasantries in the future, so that we can reach a mutually beneficial arrangement for all involved."

"Good," the redhead said, and hauled Jobs back into the second story from where he'd been dangling the ex-Turk out the window, head-first.

Jobs, hands cuffed behind his back, hit the floor with a loud _thump_ and grimaced. "I'd be a little gentler if I were you, Mr. Reno. Undue damage to me could make me forget things you need to know."

Rude snorted. "Funny. Usually it works out the opposite way."

"Yes, well. It may not have been quite as advanced as yours, but I went through essentially the same training regimen as you did, received the same conditioning. I'm sure you remember the Needle."

Raising an eyebrow, Yuffie was about to ask what the Needle was when she saw that the blood had drained out of Reno's face rather dramatically at the very mention of it.

"Yeah, I remember," Reno finally said. "I oughta lop off one of your ears for reminding me."

"Uncuff me and make me a good enough offer," Jobs continued, "and I'll tell you anything you might need to know. I was due for over a hundred grand at the conclusion of this job, but obviously my employer won't be particularly interested in paying me now."

"You'd skip out on him, just like that?" Makoto asked, distrust showing in his eyes.

"When I say ex-Turk for hire, I mean it very literally. I take money for services to be rendered, and in this case I've failed to render said services, meaning my employer, whoever he or she might be, will not be happy. Better to collect what I can from all of you, tell you what you need to know to give you the best chance of rooting out this person, and be on my way."

Grandpa Souta frowned. "You don't even know who you're working for? It seems like an odd arrangement."

Jobs shrugged as best as the handcuffs would permit him. "As long as he or she was willing to pay, I wasn't interested in their identity. I _was_ peeved when they discovered mine, after all the steps I took to ensure my relative anonymity while on this job."

Blowing out a long sigh, Reno moved around to Jobs' back to undo the cuffs. "How much cash you want?"

"I've already got a hundred and twenty-five thousand up front from my _former_ employer – the whole job was negotiated for two hundred and fifty grand, total. Give me seventy-five thousand to make two-hundred-kay total and I'll call it a deal."

"Deal. I can only write you a check."

"I have accounts."

Reno motioned at Rude, and the man withdrew a checkbook from one of his coat pockets. "Let me guess. Rufus is paying."

"Unless you've got seventy-five thousand to part with, partner."

"Pass."

As Reno began fishing in his own pocket for a pen, Makoto stepped forward and laid a restraining hand on his shoulder. "I don't like this. Sure, he may claim to be the very model of a modern major-mercenary, but money doesn't buy the truth."

"No, just my version of it," Jobs cut in, stretching slightly. "I'm not only a mercenary, I'm also an information broker on the side. I have contacts of various sorts – the men sent into steal the Leviathan materia were part of a squad I used to work with on certain jobs that required a little more muscle than I alone could provide."

"This information of yours could be inaccurate, maybe even fatally so," Rei objected. "Even if you tell us what you think is the truth, you might send us down the wrong path."

"There are two things you do with information acquired during the course of an operation: you continue with your original plan while keeping it in mind or you adapt your plan to it. Just because I tell you something doesn't mean you have to take it as though it's written in stone and prophesied by the Fates."

The sudden, harsh sound of Reno ripping a check out of the book startled everyone, and the redhead pinned it to Jobs' forehead with a finger. "For seventy-five grand, buddy, it damn well _better_ be."

* * *

Before them stood a tall, ramshackle apartment building in downtown Wutai. They'd traveled here via Jobs' direction, and now they stood in front of it, half-afraid that if they went in it would collapse around their ears. 

As Rude now had a motorcycle, Reno had drove Tseng's convertible, with Yuffie in the front and Jobs seated in the back. Makoto had taken Rei on his own motorcycle, and Karsk had given Grandpa Souta a ride. When asked about Reno's bike, the old mechanic had smiled mysteriously and said "Later."

Reno certainly didn't trust Jobs as far as he could throw him – pitching people over ledges and into solid things was Rude's department. However, he _did_ know that Rufus' check wouldn't bounce, and even if he was a scumbag, Jobs had still been a Turk, once. Money talked to people like him.

"Earlier, I mentioned my apparently illegal activities regarding favors the Turks did for friends of Shin-Ra," Jobs said as he began to lead them into the building. "When it comes to operations like this, I usually indulge in a bit of it with my employer after everything is wrapped up to his satisfaction. Usually the additional sum I receive isn't much, but as I said, something is better than nothing."

"So were collecting info on your employer to blackmail him with after you finished working for him," Makoto said distastefully.

"Blackmail is an ugly word. It doesn't roll off of the tongue at all. I prefer 'extortion.'"

Reno snorted at that and pushed open the front doors.

The lobby was grungy and dimly lit. An overweight, half-asleep Wutainese bouncer stood by the door in the unlikely event of trouble, and behind the front desk was a petite, gum-chewing local girl who looked a bit too trashy to qualify as pretty.

"Mr. Ro!" she squealed when she saw Jobs walk in. "So _good_ to see you again!" Fake lashes fluttered like butterfly wings laden in tar, and Reno half-expected them to actually generate wind currents. "And are these people guests?"

"Yes," Jobs replied, looking every bit as blithe as the last time he'd crushed an insect in his apartment bathroom – about an hour before he'd left to survey the Shinsengumi headquarters, actually. "My room key, please, Ms. Chen."

The girl giggled, going up and down the scale like a wobbly instrument, and handed Jobs a key with fake bashfulness, making sure to grip it so that he had to brush his fingers against hers to relieve her of the item. "Have a good day!"

Without saying anything, everyone followed Jobs to the staircase. Only after the receptionist was out of earshot did Rei say, flatly, "Harlot."

"I was thinking more along the lines of 'slut,' but that works too," Yuffie agreed, eyes speaking eloquently of her distaste. "I mean, how old are you, Jobs?"

"Old enough that the clumsy advances of a foolish schoolgirl are of no interest to me."

Grandpa Souta whistled. "And I thought I was positively ancient."

After several flights of stairs Jobs branched out into a hallway, moved down it for about ten paces, and then stopped in front of an assuming-looking door. "This is it – number seven-oh-nine. Stand back." With seemingly exaggerated caution, Jobs unlocked the door and turned then handle, then pulled open the door, stepping away from the doorway itself at the same time. There was the quiet sound of air being displaced, and dust and plaster blossomed from the wall opposite the doorway as a bullet landed in it.

Leaning around the door to peer inside the apartment, Reno saw that the doorjamb had a string attached to it, which in turn stretched to a mechanism affixed to a silenced pistol, balanced on a stack of books on a chair and oriented towards the entrance. "Some security system. You'd figure a bucket over the door would do."

Jobs smiled thinly. "Unless it was filled with acid, no."

The group moved inside, Karsk bringing up the rear. The Sub-General carefully closed the door behind him, keeping an eye on Jobs the entire time, while everyone else surveyed the apartment. It was relatively clean, given the accommodations, speaking of Jobs' ordered nature.

On a table in the anteroom, there was a large stack of papers and tape recordings. Jobs moved to them, retrieving a small tape player from a shelf as he did so, selected a tape, and popped it in.

"I presume I'm speaking to the proprietor of Incorporated Designs."

It was a mechanical, obviously synthesized voice, with no life or inflection in it. The speaker could be male or female; it was impossible to tell.

"That would depend upon who's calling, and for what purpose," Jobs' voice answered.

"I have need of an individual to put a face to my particular political party in Wutai, and to do some odd jobs for me. Most of them involve crowd control."

Pause. "I'm not some campaign figurehead for hire. My work is serious business."

"Good, because mine is as well. This political party is not a conventional one, per se – it involves less being elected into power and more removing those currently elected from it."

"Anarchists?"

"In a sense. We lean rather far to the left on the grand scale – we desire change quickly, and our tactics do not exclude unpleasantness to achieve it. We can use a man of your skills, if your claims about them are true."

"And you represent your entire party? I'm not just talking to one person who has ideas that differ from his superiors', correct?"

"I represent the vested authority of our collective will."

"_Are_ you the party you're talking about?"

"I do not act alone."

"Good enough for me, then. I'll meet you halfway: a hundred and twenty-five thousand for this job. I'm not going to be some public figure, but I _will_ get things done for you."

"Fair enough. Since you aren't as curious as the last three I've contacted, I'll make you a bonus – you'll get your requested sum up front, in cash, and an extra hundred and twenty-five thousand upon the completion of your job."

A longer pause. "Sounds like a plan. Give me contact information and we'll have a little get-together."

There was a muted sound, obviously a laugh that the vocal synthesizer translated into a low hum. "I don't do face-to-face meetings. Neither do any of my associates. Be in Chai Jin square, in Wutai, two days from now, at midnight. You'll receive a dead drop with your instructions."

The tape ended with a sharp click, indicating the line had been cut on the other end. "That's how he or she contracted me," Jobs said, unnecessarily. "I received this call at an _acquired business_ of mine about a week before you, Kisaragi, and your partner showed up, Mr. Reno. Things had already been fomenting before my arrival – I just helped speed up the process a bit."

On the other side of the table, Rei sat herself down and began fumbling for a cigarette. With a flourish, Makoto produced one of out thin air and handed it to her. "And you have no idea who this person is that hired you?"

Moving around the table to proffer his lighter to Rei, Jobs replied, "No idea whatsoever. All contact has been via phone or radio, and they have always employed this voice-scrambling device. They also give me no vocal clues that suggest as to their origin – no language except tradespeak, no specialized jargon or vernacular. I wasn't able to trace their calls or location, either; they were using a scrambler."

Grandpa Souta also took the opportunity to light a cigarette, almost absentmindedly opening a window before taking the first puff. "In other words, Mr. Jobs, you were as in the dark about your employer as he or she was about you."

"Not quite. By the time they contacted me last, they knew my name – not something I give out to anyone unless it's necessary, or I'm about to kill them, meaning it doesn't matter what they know." At this, Rei choked slightly and started coughing, white clouds of smoke running pell-mell from her ruby lips.

"You _what_?"

Jobs shrugged. "Nothing personal, Ms. Rei."

"You'll excuse me if I take it personally."

"That's your discretion." The ex-Turk returned his attention to Reno. "These papers are all the information I was able to compile about my employer's spending, mostly gleaned from having the various gangs he supplied report to me precisely what they'd gotten from him – under the pretext of informing me of the forces at my command, of course."

"And?" Reo asked.

Jobs' expression became slightly more severe, which translated into puzzlement. "Here's the thing – my employer is quite rich, enough so that I have no trouble believing that he or she belongs to a radical political party. All the weapons and materiel delivered to the gangs were from black-market sources – old Shin-Ra stockpiles that were raided in the aftermath of Meteor that never quite made it into the hands of the authorities. That sort of thing. They were also all purchased from foreign groups; if you've seen bikers wielding broadswords or katana, those were their own. This also explains why there are so many foreign-made motorcycles present within otherwise native biker gangs – my employer supplied these, too, giving some gangs the equipment necessary to fully outfit all their members."

Coolly blowing out a puff of smoke, Grandpa Souta asked, "Are these bikes any good?"

"Compared to custom models like those you produce, of course not. But they're serviceable, and that's all these gangs need."

"What sort of weapons was your employer able to supply the gangs with?" Karsk inquired. "The same sort of thing that we saw employed today, that being light and heavy infantry weaponry, or was there transfer of anti-vehicle and demolition weapons as well?"

"Some of the more prominent gangs, such as the Shattered Hand and Ten Feet of Steel, are packing heavy artillery, as it were – but nothing that can be deployed anywhere on a whim. Those weapons are more useful for defending against an enemy siege."

"At the meeting yesterday," Rude spoke up, "you said that 'we' had an 'ulterior interest' in Yuffie. What is it?"

Jobs' face became drawn. "That, I don't know. I was instructed – well, let me give you the recording." He rummaged through the stack of tapes for a moment, and then selected one, popping it in the player.

Silence, and then: "Effecting your release from the police station was difficult, Mr. Jobs. If you get caught again, consider our contract severed."

"I understand."

"Good. In any event, go to the rendezvous with the bike gang representatives at The Jade Dragon, tonight, as planned. Make sure to act as though you are privy to some scheme of mine – mention that 'we' do not wish Yuffie Kisaragi to be harmed or unduly affected by anything we attempt tomorrow."

"Roger."

The tape stopped, and Yuffie huffed and stamped her foot. "You'd figure Reno bein' killed, not to mention you trying to shoot me through a couch, would 'unduly affect' me."

Shrugging unabashedly, the ex-Turk replied, "Things changed." He put in another tape.

"Your plan to eliminate the Turk, Reno, is an effective one." It was the employer again. "If you successfully pull it off, eliminate Kisaragi too. My original plan involving her would strike a severe blow to Wutainese morale, but having her gunned down in an attempt on her foreign paramour's life will be even more humiliating."

Jobs stopped the tape manually, this time. "As you can see, my employer is hell-bent on destabilizing Wutai's government at any cost. The attempted theft of the Leviathan materia, the fomenting of rebellion, these plans of his or hers for Yuffie... He or she is also very, very clever." At this, he turned to Karsk. "I take it that you've recently received a weapons shipment from the World Regenesis Organization, Sub-General?"

Karsk took an involuntary step backwards. "Yes, but… Security was supposed to be tighter than this. I'll have to have a talk with Mern."

"Don't bother talking to your security expert – I know this because I got into the WRO's embassy here in Wutai on false pretenses and used my rudimentary technical knowledge to get into their network. It's employing a new, experimental Shin-Ra technology – a wireless global network, replacing the land-line- and radio-dependent one we currently use. Once I was in, it was a simple matter to see if they were backing my employer."

"You think Reeve would be behind something as despicable as this?" Yuffie protested.

"I have to consider all angles when investigating a mysterious employer," Jobs countered. "At any rate, Mr. Tuesti is even cleaner than the public image he's presenting – one that can stand up to white-glove inspection, might I add. He _did_, however, pay out a relatively small amount for this arms shipment, apparently offered by an ex-Shin-Ra commander and his squad, stationed in a backwater post, who just wanted to get their consciences clean and return to their families." Plucking a sheet of paper off of the table, Jobs held it out to Karsk, who took it and ran his eyes down it. "Familiar?"

Rude stepped in behind Karsk and looked over his shoulder for a moment. "It's exactly what arrived at Karsk's compound earlier today."

The Sub-General angrily handed the paper back to Jobs. "Your employer is using the WRO to arm my men, but for what purpose?"

"It will certainly be easier for people to accept your battalion as a scapegoat for the destruction of the government if you received a shipment of weapons from an outside source – especially one as powerful and foreign as the WRO."

"Reeve," Reno growled. "Stupidass believed what has to be the lamest sob story I ever heard, and didn't double-check his clients' backgrounds because of it."

Jobs smiled thinly. "The good-hearted are the easiest to deceive."

Levering himself off of the windowsill he'd been leaning against, Makoto announced, "We're stuck. Jobs doesn't know everything he needs to – not enough to help us figure out who we're trying to fight. But since he failed at trying to kill Reno, that means that whoever's behind all this will probably try their original plan for Yuffie again. We need to just head home for the night and wait for tomorrow's Hancho game."

Grandpa Souta frowned at him. "You think that will be the catalyst, Makoto?"

"They haven't touched Yuffie so far – that leads me to conclude that whatever they're going to do, they'll do it after she's married, or at least after we all know who she's going to end up marrying." He looked sheepishly at her and added, "In theory, of course."

"A good plan," Karsk agreed. "Expending all our energy looking for an invisible foe will do us no good. Better to wait until the enemy shows himself and _then_ strike." His mouth compressed itself into a firm line, and he said, "I will ensure that this party regrets having sent me those weapons."

Clapping his hands together, Reno said, "We're agreed, then. Just one thing." Turning to Jobs, he asked, "So. You gonna help?"

Twin columns of smoke burst from both Rei's and Grandpa Souta's nostrils in their surprise, and the rest of the group looked similarly shocked – except, of course, for Jobs himself. He nodded and replied, "Of course. I can't have a former employer who's undoubtedly angry at me and disappointed in my performance knowing my identity. It behooves me to see him eliminated."

"You're a real altruist, Jobs," the redhead drawled. "Just to make one thing clear, though. You blackmail any of us after this is done, we're going with the plan Makoto and I originally had to interrogate you. I'd need to go down to the Scarlet Monastery and get the recipe for their bull testicles, but you catch my drift."

"Inescapably."

"Great. Welcome aboard."


	22. Chapter XXII

So Reno and Rude walk into a bar. You'd think the two of them would have seen it coming.

Ba-dum psh.

Chapter XXII. Site was down last night so this is about seven hours late. Apologies, mes hypocrites lecteurs.

* * *

Reno's cell started ringing. 

He was driving himself and Yuffie back to her house, while Rude thundered along beside them on his bike. Grandpa Souta had said that Reno's bike was parked on the curb in front of Yuffie's house, and that it was quite impervious to theft for obvious reasons. Night had fallen, the stars twinkling merrily in sharp contrast to the somber tones of the latest proceedings.

Acting with prudent caution, Reno pulled his cell and checked the number of the caller. His eyes widened when he saw Rufus' home phone listed and he shoved the cell at Yuffie. "Take this."

She eyed it and then asked, "Why?"

"Because I don't feel like getting my head blown off over the phone while I'm driving."

Wondering what could be going on, Yuffie flipped the cell open. "Hello?"

"Yuffie? It's Rufus."

"Hey, stud. What's up?"

"Why isn't Reno on this line?"

"He's busy," the ninja-girl replied in her trademark blasé voice. "Whatcha need? And isn't it, like, three in the morning there?"

"Four. And I don't need anything much, really. Just an explanation of how nearly a half-million gil has managed to disappear from my account – and all towards people or organizations in Wutai, no less."

_He wants to know about the money_, Yuffie mouthed to Reno.

_Lie your ass off_, Reno mouthed back.

"No idea, Rufus," Yuffie lied cheerfully. "You'd have to ask Reno about that."

"That _was_ my intent. Put him on."

"But I already told you, he's busy. You don't want to interrupt his, er, duties, right?"

There was a crackling sigh from the other end of the line. "What _duties_ are we talking about, here? Is it something I really want to know?"

"Reno's just giving me a foot massage. Nothing big."

One of the redhead's eyes twitched. There were a lot of good excuses in the world for why people were too busy to come to the phone. A foot massage was not ranked amongst them.

"Unless your feet are going to fall off without this precious treatment," Rufus drawled, "I suggest you put him on. Right now. Or he'll want to investigate making a living as a masseuse, as he seems so able at it."

Putting her hand over the mouthpiece, Yuffie told Reno, "He says that if you don't get on right now you might want to consider being a masseuse as a full-time job."

"Great." Reno took the phone back from Yuffie, forced good cheer into his voice, and then said, "Boss, long time no speakie! I tell you, she's got the tensest feet since –"

"Since mine, when I was informed that four hundred and fifty thousand gil had been subtracted from my personal account," Rufus' voice cut him off coolly. "Unless you're going to try to tell me that it wasn't you?"

"Would you believe me?"

"I've reformed, not gone soft in the head," Rufus snapped. "What did you spend it on?"

Thinking back, Reno finally said, "Bikes would account for three hundred seventy-five grand, and the other seventy-five would be going to an ex-Turk to get him on our side."

"I hope he's been a worthy investment."

"Well, he's told us a lot that we needed to know. Incidentally, Boss, I'd say don't let Reeve handle shipment of weapons or other dangerous variables like that. Our guy here set up Karsk with a shipment through the WRO to make him a scapegoat for when the government goes up in smoke."

A pause, and then, "I ought to write that down."

"I'm being totally serious here, Boss."

"So was I – but that's beside the point. What's this ex-Turk's name?"

"Deman Jobs."

In his well-appointed home in Edge, sitting in a leather-bound chair by the fireplace, clad in a rich maroon robe and slippers, Rufus frowned. "Strange. I don't recall anyone by that name. How long ago did he retire from the Turks?"

"Back before Tseng joined up – Veld let him go for some illegal stuff that he was conducting behind the company's back."

"You're sure of this? Why haven't you run a background check on our Mr. Jobs?"

"We just learned his name today, Boss. You're the first guy from Shin-Ra that we've talked to in a while."

"It's about time that that situation was rectified in any event, then. Call up Tseng and have him tell you anything he knows about Mr. Jobs – things Veld may have said, material he may have read, anything. You have to learn to be more careful when taking help from potential threats."

"Yeah, because we had _so_ much choice in the matter," Reno growled, swerving a bit to avoid a drunk van driver in the opposite lane. "Or we could go ahead and pass up a golden opportunity to recruit someone who used to be in our enemy's pocket. Real reasonable."

"Don't give me any lip," Rufus said, only half-amusedly. "Contact Tseng and get some background information on Jobs. If and when he double-crosses you, I want you ready with some sort of counter."

* * *

The first sensation that Tseng had was a pounding headache. Actually, it was a hangover, but he'd experienced so few of those in his life that the sensation wasn't immediately familiar to him. 

His head seemed to throb and twist to some strange and awful rhythm, and after a moment Tseng managed to identify it: his cell's ringtone.

_I must have done something in a previous life to deserve this_.

Rolling over to grab the phone off of his nightstand, Tseng's eyes went very wide and his head cleared up remarkably when he felt warm, naked flesh beneath his fingers. It all came flooding back to him: he and Elena had gone out drinking after a long day, they'd decided to go back to her place and open up a bottle of sparkling wine that she'd been saving, and…

_Oh, Gaea. No wonder I feel so terrible. The sugar content must have been larger than Reno's ego_.

Lucid moments flashed out at him from the darkness, and his fingers twitched as the sensation of deliriously unbuttoning the front of Elena's blouse came back to him. So _that_ was why he was lying nude in her bed.

In that case, his phone would still be in his pants pocket, and his pants were probably on the floor in the bedroom. Or in the hallway leading up to it. He didn't remember too much, but what he did recall was fun, heated, and distinctly without pants on either of them.

Tseng hauled himself, gently as he could, out of Elena's bed and groped for a robe, finding one a moment later. In the dark his eyes kept receding up through his head into his memory and bringing forth the creamy white beauty of her thighs, and he accidentally banged his head into a wall before he managed to immerse himself in the present and get his bearings. _Some Turk I am_.

That pounding melody, lashing out at him in the dark and beating twin mallets against his skull. It was closer, and he groped for it until his bare feet felt the smooth cloth of his pants leg.

Close enough that it felt like it was driving his eyes into the back of his skull with a pair of drills. Good _god_ the sparkling wine must have had a lot of sugar.

Tseng located the phone in his pants pocket, flipped it open, and said, "This is Tseng. Who's calling?"

Or at least he tried to. What emerged was something more like "His s s'n. O's cking?"

"Are you _drunk_?" Reno's voice thundered into his ear.

"Not so _loud_!" Tseng hissed.

"Oh, hung over. Right." The redhead dropped his voice to a raspy whisper that was bearable for Tseng to listen to. "Listen, I need you to think back. Did Veld ever talk about a guy named Deman Jobs that he let go?"

Blearily, Tseng stared across the room at Elena's sleeping form, the light sheet on her bed resting tantalizingly across her curves. "Wha?"

"_Deman Jobs_. Does the name ring a bell?"

"Why?"

"We've entered into what Rufus would call a _business contract_ with him. He's a former Turk, apparently, that Veld let go for illegal activities even before you joined up." Tseng struggled and focused, recalling times he'd fought off powerful sedatives for hours, keeping himself awake and alive. If his enemies had poured sparkling wine down his throat he'd have been screwed, no doubt.

"Yeah. Deman Jobs." The leader of the Turks racked his brain. "Well… I'm about as awake as Rufus during a WRO board meeting, but I vaguely remember Veld mentioning him once." He brought the incident into further clarity, and then swore. "Shit, he didn't mention him. I actually met him on an assignment."

"Tell me what happened. It could be important in the future."

Tseng opened his mouth again to tell Reno about the incident, and then Elena rolled over and blinked sleepily at him. "Tseng?"

"Tseng? You there?" Reno asked. "Where _is_ 'there,' anyway?"

"Who are you talking to?"

"Reno," Tseng told Elena. "He needs information on a man he has to deal with in Wutai. Go back to sleep, I'll rejoin you shortly."

The Turk returned his attention to the phone to hear "…know that Rufus doesn't like Turks to be playing pelvic pinochle with one another."

"He likes us playing pelvic pinochle with someone he has to do background checks on even less," Tseng snapped, some of his mind shrugging off the alcohol with indignation. "And it's really none of your business, Mr. Dating-A-Wutainese-Princess."

"You get so damned _articulate_ when you're drunk," Reno chortled. "Okay, so you met Jobs. Spill the beans."

"It was at the funeral of one of Veld's old army buddies – Veld was in attendance in an official capacity, so he wanted me to handle security. During the course of the funeral, on a hunch I had a couple guys pull Jobs aside for acting suspicious. To this day it was the best hunch I ever had – after the funeral when I took Veld to where I had a pair of my men holding him, I found two corpses and a note."

"What'd the note say?"

Tseng swallowed, Elena's lovely silhouette lost to his sight for a moment as he saw the note rise out of the darkness before him. "I still have the occasional nightmare about it, Reno." Stupid admission, but he was still half-drunk; they'd laugh about it later, with the tacit understanding that it had been good for Tseng to get out and was not to be poked fun at. "I've seen cold-blooded people before, but Jobs… If there was a cake to be taken, well."

Nothing. Reno was waiting patiently for Tseng to conclude.

Taking a deep breath, Tseng finally blurted out, "It said, 'My replacement has good gut instincts and observational powers. He'll go far.'"

* * *

Jobs' phone rang. 

Normally he'd have glanced at his clock, seen it read ten-oh-four, and ignored whoever was stupid enough to call at this hour and expect a response. However, he had a feeling…

"Apartment 194, Mr. Ro speaking."

"I'm disappointed in you, Mr. Jobs."

Sucking in a breath through clenched teeth, Jobs finally said, "I can't imagine why. I've put myself in the perfect position for you to raise your bid for my services and have me double-cross them."

"You have, have you?" If the synthesized voice could carry tone, it would be dripping with sarcasm. "I told you I have eyes and ears, Mr. Jobs. I know precisely your motivation behind this defection, and it will not go unpunished."

Immediately, Jobs was checking dark corners, looking up into light fixtures, opening cabinets. _Impossible. I swept this place thoroughly. He can't have any monitoring devices in here_.

"Look all you like, Mr. Jobs," the voice buzzed. "You'll never find them until they are revealed to you."

"In that event, why did you call?" Jobs asked, the slightest hint of his anger seeping into his voice. "You can't have simply wasted thirty seconds of your life to promise me that retribution will be delivered and other lofty espousements."

"I have no ideals to communicate to you, Mr. Jobs, because the only ideal you follow is that of lining your own pockets."

"Free enterprise," Jobs protested.

"Oh, please." No scorn, just cold machine inflection, but Jobs felt the heat on his skin in spite of himself. "How many millions do you have in your accounts, Mr. Jobs? You could retire a happy man, to never have to work again. You could have retired a happy man two years ago, as a matter of fact. You'll simply never admit to yourself that you love your job more than is reasonable."

In a sudden burst of irrational anger, Jobs gave a heave on the phone, snapping the cord straight out of the wall. He made no sound, no roar, but whirled to the open window and hurled the whole apparatus out of it to smash against the pavement below.

_I have one other ideal that I hold_, he thought, teeth clenched so tightly they hurt. _The right to privacy. Nobody should know more about you than you do – or even remotely approach it._

"Privacy is paramount to the function of the individual," Vincent Valentine had once confided in Jobs. They'd worked together for a short time, before the young man had been dispatched to Nibelheim to assist some scientist or other. Years, years ago… It seemed like a lifetime. "My father always told me that, and I figured he had to be right. If you have no secrets, what sets you apart from anyone else? It's secrets that make you who you are, I think. Not your face or your mannerisms – those are up for grabs, if you think about it. Secrets."

It was the single finest piece of advice Jobs had ever received – and from someone younger than him, no less. His many years of life had begun to weigh on him, but never once had he considered quitting. Always being on the move, never having attachments; never sharing his secrets. He was the only true individual he knew – everyone else shared their secrets and became co-mingled with another, even Valentine, from what he'd heard – the poor, stupid lad.

"You possess a few secrets of mine too many," Jobs growled. "I'll retrieve them with interest."

* * *

Heaving a long, drawn-out sigh of relief, Makoto finally shut the door to his chamber in the basement of the Shinsengumi headquarters behind him, crossed the room, and flopped onto the couch. 

He probably wouldn't see Rei until tomorrow; regardless of how tired she was, the geisha had to show up at The Jade Dragon tonight or risk losing her job. The management was rather forgiving when it came to long stretches of absence, as long as they were infrequent, but stretching things out too far was still risky.

Wanting to just fall asleep in front of the television, Makoto grabbed the remote and flipped it on. He channel-surfed for a while, the glare reflecting off of his sepia eyes, moving from one pointless show the next.

Finally he settled on just watching the eleven o'clock news. As had become the norm lately, there was more discussion and deliberation on Reno's speech and the mysterious foreigner's motives, as well as a minor story noting some of the aftereffects of the conflict that had taken place earlier in the day.

Kosuke had told Makoto that a shopkeeper on one of the nearby streets had come with a complaint that "one of you bikers" had apparently managed to blow up his shop, along with three other bikers, using a rocket-propelled grenade. When Makoto asked Kosuke how he'd handled it, the young man said that he'd told the plaintiff that the culprit was a foreign devil and servant of the Shin-Ra company that would probably cut him down without batting an eyelash.

The man had withdrawn his complaint.

Makoto had been irritated; certainly, this took the blame off of the Shinsengumi, and in a properly diverting way as well, but what good were any of them if they condoned the rampant isolationist sentiment rushing through Wutai? He'd demanded twenty gil from every member present, right then and there, and sent a man with the sum total of fifteen hundred gil or so to the shopkeeper. Just because it wasn't their rocket didn't mean it wasn't their fault, Makoto had said.

His men had nodded approvingly and gone back to their drinks.

Was it all for naught? Could Makoto actually make any sort of difference in this fight, or was Wutai consumed by a sweeping change that no amount of reactionary movement could halt? Were all his actions in vain?

_That's stupid talk_, Jubei said.

He didn't actually say it; he was dead, of course. Makoto's eyes unfocused, staring past the news into years gone by. Makoto had given his parents lip about tidying his room, saying that it would just get disorganized again.

_That's stupid talk. The world isn't black and white, tidy and messy, Makoto. There are shades of grey. Something can be sort of tidy, or sort of messy, but not perfect or perfectly chaotic. If you don't catch messiness when it's only sort of messy, it'll get really bad, and then making it tidy again will be more difficult_.

"You were a good man, Jubei," Makoto murmured. "You really knew how to dispense worthwhile advice."

Every action he took against tyranny, regardless of how small, was still worthwhile, because it took a step up the long stair to a state of freedom. If you never mounted the first of a thousand stairs, you could never mount the second or the third.

Makoto fell asleep in front of the glow of the television, content.

* * *

As Reno pulled up to the curb in front of Yuffie's house, he saw a vaguely bike-like shape beneath a large tarp in front of him. He stopped well short of it, deciding to inspect his bike in the day tomorrow. 

Rude pulled up behind them, parked his bike, locked it down, and said, "Going to bed. See you tomorrow."

"Night, partner," Reno replied. "Pleasant dreams."

"You, too."

After a moment, Reno made to get out of the car and Yuffie impulsively laid a hand on his shoulder and restrained him. "Wait up a minute, hon."

"Sure. What's up?"

Chewing at her bottom lip, Yuffie finally said, "I don't know what's gonna happen tomorrow, Reno. I just have a really bad feeling about it – like we don't know what we're walking into."

"I'm walking into my own tomb if you end up betrothed to Rufus," Reno laughed, expression turning somber again quickly. "In all seriousness, though, we can't know what tomorrow's going to bring. I think that's part of life – if we all knew exactly what the future held, where the hell would be the fun? It's what you do getting to tomorrow that counts, not tomorrow itself."

Yuffie smiled wanly at him. "You're real deep sometimes, you know that?"

Returning her smile, Reno drew her to him across the seat and kissed her. "It's sorta spontaneous. I don't really try to be a genius, it just comes naturally."

She kissed him again. "An' modest, too. Real modest."

Another thought occurred to the redhead, and he said, more quietly, "As long as we're talking seriously… This could be the last opportunity for us to just be together, like this. I know I just told you not to be afraid of the future or whatever, but… That idea scares me. It scares the everliving _shit_ out of me."

The ninja-girl regarded him with her head cocked slightly, eyes wide with wonderment. She saw no deceit in his eyes and heard none in his tone. Reno, being _honest_?

"This isn't some sleep-with-me-now-for-tomorrow-I-may-die thing, Yuffie. That's a load of bull. This is me, telling you that you're a hell of a lot more important to me than anything else in the world – my job, my company, my _life_, basically. You remember that talk we almost had about what would happen if one of us was going to die?"

Yuffie nodded. "Yeah. If one of us was going to die, like say someone was going to shoot me, would you try to take the bullet for me?"

"I don't like that scenario. It's lose-lose. If I don't, you die, and that sucks. If I do, I die, and you'll be real bummed – I hope. Plus, that's not even taking into account that the guy could just shoot twice. Sort of a catch-twenty-two. But let's break the rules here." Impulsively, Reno squeezed her hand and stared hard into her grey eyes. "If it came down to you or me, Yuffie, I'd sure as hell make sure it was me – and not only that, I'd make sure that I lived through it, so you wouldn't have to be sad."

At a loss for words, Yuffie pulled Reno to her, not to lean her head on his shoulder, but to let him lean his on hers – she felt his lean body quake slightly as he fought down a sob. This wasn't the cocksure sunuvabitch Reno or the silent killer Reno, but the little boy who'd probably never had a real family and who'd lost what little innocence he had left to a slut at an official function for his company.

He'd sort of broken down when he'd told her about that, too, but not like this time.

Yuffie held him, and dared tomorrow to come and interrupt them. It would show up eventually, but not now.

Tomorrow, everything would come together.


	23. Chapter XXIII

I'm going to make you an offer you can't refuse.

I offer you the chance to read this sentence.

Told you that you couldn't refuse. Chapter XXIII est arrivé.

* * *

As per his usual routine, Rude woke himself at seven-fifteen in the morning. 

He got up, subjected himself to a quick cold shower, more to wake himself up than clean himself. With a glance out the window to ensure his bike was still parked behind Tseng's car, which in turn was parked behind the shrouded form of Reno's bike, Rude started exercising.

The upstairs bathroom of Yuffie's house offered little floor space, but it was better than exercising in the room she'd provided him – it was cluttered with ninja memorabilia, with just enough pushed up against a wall and half into the closet for Rude to lay down on the mat and leave his suitcase on the floor.

Rude started with push-ups, five hundred of them. Every fifty he alternated between one of five types: both arms, left arm, right arm, left arm at the elbow, and right arm at the elbow. The first three he did with his knuckles pressed against the ground to keep his fists tough. The latter two had him resting the length of his forearm against the ground, putting all his weight on it, and then thrusting himself up off of it until his knuckles pressed against the floor and his arm was straight. Rude always lowered himself to the floor after a push-up carefully, no relaxing and allowing himself to collapse. That was lazy.

Sit-ups, five hundred. Again Rude had five types: both legs on the ground, left leg straight in the air, right leg straight in the air, both legs straight in the air, and both legs and arms straight. He made sure to touch his upthrust toes for the fifth kind, else there was really no point.

At this point, if he were in his own apartment, Rude would move to the weights and start bench-pressing, followed by curling and a jog-in-place with weights around his ankles. Yuffie obviously didn't store any giant iron barbells or fifty-pound bars, so Rude had opted for something a bit easier – he _was_ on vacation, after all. He danced and weaved around the narrow floor space of the bathroom, feet never both touching the ground at the same time, throwing staccato punches that rocketed out like dark missiles and viciously beat at the air.

He threw about a thousand of these, and then it was seven-forty. Now Rude took a real shower, though still a cold one, and cleaned himself up. He also decided to shave; he'd been getting iron stubble lately, the kind that could probably be used as a killing weapon if you could ever shave it properly.

How Reno got by and remained in good shape without a vigorous morning routine completely puzzled Rude. Between what the redhead ate and drank, both on-duty and off-, he should by all rights be a blimp with a failed liver by now. Not that Rude begrudged his partner his naturally slim frame, though. The bald Turk believed in stockiness over grace. You could float like a butterfly, but if you got swatted you'd sure as hell better be able to stand up to it like a cockroach. Not pretty, but effective.

Eight o'clock. Rude cleared his throat slightly, walked up to the door to Yuffie's room, and slid it open.

He was expecting the two of them to be in bed together, probably curled up. Maybe Reno would be half-in and half-out of the bed, his head on Yuffie's thighs or lap, cover twisted about his shoulders, while his legs lay in disarray outside the sheet.

The first thing that caught his eye, very apparently and immediately, was that in this iteration of their usual morning sloth, there were no clothes involved.

Their normal articles of clothing were strewn about the room, like you saw in post-sex scenes in bad movies as the camera panned up from the floor, up the side of the bed, to reveal the lovers curled up in bed together. They were curled up, all right, spoons-style, though it was Yuffie who was behind Reno and not vice versa. Mercifully enough, they'd had the sense, or at least the luck, to cover themselves modestly with the sheet. It rested just short of their shoulders and wafted slightly as a breeze came in through the open window. Normally Rude hated open windows, as they brought the image of a sniper crouching on a far-off rooftop to his mind, but it fit this tranquil scene like the leather gloves the Turk wore fit his hands.

Visibly regaining his composure, Rude said, "Reno. Yuffie. Eight o'clock."

"Five more minutes," Reno muttered. He rolled over and then woke fully, very fast, when Yuffie shifted and unconsciously took hold of something beneath the sheets. "Holy _shit_ I'm awake."

"Good," Rude deadpanned, stolidly keeping his gaze affixed on the windowsill above the couple's heads. "Get Yuffie up, too. We need to get you a suit."

Reno made a face. "Oh, right. Gotta look proper for the whole Hancho gig tonight. Right. Thanks, partner."

Stepping out adroitly, Rude closed the door behind him, and Reno was left in the airy room with his lover.

His gaze slipped to her tranquil face to find that it had ceased to be tranquil; instead, her grip tightened and an impish smile appeared on her pristine features while her eyes remained closed. "Morning, sugar."

"You can leggo now."

"No fun at all in the morning, are we?" Yuffie let one part of him go and pulled his head towards her own so she could administer a kiss. The redhead responded eagerly, running a hand down her bare shoulder and enjoying the feeling of her silky skin. They disengaged and Yuffie asked, "Sleep well?"

Reno gave her a confused look. "We slept?"

"Figuring how boring last night was, of course."

"Of course." Looking surreptitiously at the door to make sure Rude was really gone, Reno pulled his other hand out from beneath the sheets and, without comment, slipped his wrist out of the handcuff affixed to it. "Though you still haven't explained why you happened to have a pair of these lying around."

"You'd be surprised how many of those I have just lying around," Yuffie replied innocently. "I just pick 'em up off the street, get 'em in the mail, you know."

"Yup. What's for breakfast?"

* * *

It was quite a strange sight, parked on the curb in front of Yuffie's house. A beat-up, jet-black convertible that had seen far better days and looked like it had been driven through hell and back, several times. A gleaming stallion of a motorcycle, one that was all smooth lines and chrome finish and deadly concealed weapons. And… 

Reno whirled the tarp off of his own bike and exclaimed, "Perfect!"

It wasn't quite as long or as high as Rude's magnificent beast was, but Reno's bike was still larger-than-average. It mirrored the curvature and glossy finish of Rude's bike, making it similar enough for them to be recognized as partners whenever they rode together, but the similarities ended there. No chrome graced this bike's frame; instead, it was painted a deep crimson, the color of pooled blood, and was licked by flames of brighter scarlet along its chassis. Even the seat was made of rich red leather. Reno grinned like a teenager given the opportunity to see what lay beneath his girlfriend's blouse – an experience he'd never had before, as none of his girlfriends, including Yuffie, ever wore blouses – and mounted the bike, testing the handlebars and feeling them conform almost magically to his grip. He checked the dashboard; in addition to the usual readings and gauges, there were several mystery buttons that were all dying to be pushed.

"Hot," Yuffie said.

"Oh yeah." Reno tapped one of the buttons. Twin plates of crimson popped off of the rear chassis near the hind wheel, one on either side, and each slid smoothly back to reveal a rear-facing flamethrower. "I gave him real exact specifications. These babies won't flash-fry me, but they _will_ toast anyone within twenty feet of my tailwind."

"What about the undercarriage?" Rude asked. "He mount anything like my rocket launcher there?"

"'Course," Reno replied. "Nothing quite as powerful, just a Mini-Arclite cannon that Tseng had in the trunk. I'm sure he won't miss it."

Yuffie blanched. "Tseng kept an _Marclite_ in his _trunk_? Why?"

Reno shrugged. "Tseng's Tseng, and Tseng does as Tseng does. Or at least that's what Elena says. I don't really care, just that I'll probably be paying him back for the Marclite on top of his car. It's worth it, though. Rude does a wheelie and blows up half a city block; I do a wheelie and put a round the size of your head through anything in my way."

"Won't the recoil send you flying?"

"It'll kick my bike off of its back wheel and slam my front down pretty hard, but Grandpa Souta designed the suspension to take the impact and keep me steady. A couple uses and I'll be blasting away happily without any trouble."

Shaking her head, Yuffie gave a short sigh and said, "Boys."

His expression hovering somewhere between bliss and hysteria, Reno turned to Rude and said, "So, partner. Wanna take a spin through the city before we go shopping?"

* * *

There was a great, incessant pounding in Makoto's dream. It was a pleasant dream, a simple dream: he was sitting under the shade of a tree with his family and Rei, and they were simply enjoying each other's company. He didn't know what they were discussing or if they were talking at all; their very presence was comforting. 

Then the pounding started thundering out of the sky, and Makoto leapt to his feet to confront its source, but nothing revealed itself until –

Makoto woke abruptly, startled out of his dream by the knocking on his chambers' door. "Come in," he called.

He'd fallen asleep on the couch in front of the television. How slothful. The set was still going – right now there was some animated show on about a half-demon and his producers' frustrating inability to admit that the show had jumped the shark a long time ago and ought to be cancelled. Squeeze some more life out of the franchise, dammit, put in a couple filler arcs before the final curtain call.

The leader of the Shinsengumi peculiarly empathized with the show today. It kept on going, even though its protagonist was an unpleasant prude and the main villain was the master of the plothole generator – he wouldn't stay _dead_. Makoto felt the same way, stretched too thin for his liking and being forced to face something that wouldn't stay dead because everyone loved it. The thought of all Wutai falling prey to vicious isolationism and anti-foreign sentiment snapped him out of his reverie as Shijin entered with a gold-bordered envelope.

"Message for you from the Pagoda, Boss. I think it's from Lord Godo."

"Thank you. Stick it on the coffee table, I'll look at it later," Makoto said.

"Sure thing. Have a good sleep?"

"Yes, I'm quite refreshed. Call me if anything comes up."

"Will do, Boss." Shijin deposited the envelope at the indicated location, nodded, and disappeared from the room. Kicking back a bit, even though he was already comfortable, Makoto vaguely reflected on the division of the Shinsengumi. You had Shijin's lot, who'd been with Makoto for a long time and knew he was a man just like them. They called him "Boss." Then you had Kosuke's lot, young and able and very green, who were awed as hell by Shiranui-ryu and thought Makoto was no less than some kind of goddamned demigod – strange wording, but fitting. They called him "Commander."

His cell rang, and the gang leader picked up. "Makoto here."

"It's Rei. Grandpa Souta just woke me up – we got a letter from Lord Godo asking us to attend the Hancho game tonight."

Makoto's brow creased. "You sound perky for having only gotten a few hours' sleep."

"What are you talking about? I got here at two in the morning and now it's nine, a good seven hours' sleep. You're the one who overslept."

"Well, shit. I got a letter, too, though that's to be expected – and I'm glad Lord Godo wants the two of you to come. After all, it _is_ fairly important to your futures."

"You should probably call Jobs and tell him where and when," the geisha added, though her tone rang of distaste. "Reno wants him as an ally, so I think you should probably let him in on this."

"Reno's decision, not mine. If it were up to me I'd gut him for trying to hurt you. If Reno wants Jobs there, he can call and tell him about the time and place himself."

A short pause; Makoto could see in his mind's eye Rei shrugging, the movement sort of sloughing down her neck through her shoulders, terminating in a neat little twirl at the start of her forearms. "If you say so. That _is_ sweet of you, though."

"Thanks. Should I meet you at your place?"

* * *

Karsk knelt before the shrine he'd had set up in the common room of his condominium. Behind him, his troops were assembled. All the weapons had been unpacked and ready, they had their dispersal orders in case of a riot, everything was in preparation. He'd already given them their pep talk yesterday, but before he went to the Hancho game that evening – a letter had arrived saying six o'clock in the back room of the Scarlet Monastery – he wanted to do something. 

The Sub-General was not religious, and neither were any of his men. Living in a world where you slaughtered mercilessly or were mercilessly slaughtered yourself, you tended to become disillusioned about lofty ideals like religion and the divine plan. The man displayed in the shrine had not been religious, either, at least until he'd started plans to become a god.

But that really wasn't who Karsk wanted to address this afternoon.

"General," he finally said aloud, and felt more than heard all the men behind him stiffen up a bit, trying to come to attention in the kneeling position – an awkward task, to say the least. "I've already told my men that we're going to uphold your last command, that we're going to protect the city. None of us are particularly spiritual or religious; we don't truck with that, because it tends to be layered falsehood around an informational opiate. But some things have a ring of truth, despite whatever your beliefs may be."

Karsk paused and listened for any rustles behind him, heard none. The men were completely silent and reverent, just as committed to this and to honoring the General's memory as the Sub-General himself was.

"I remember, after the war, when the occupation began, you led us in services for the dead. You were the single most practical person I've ever known – to you, spilled blood was rust on your sword, not a soul transcending the mortal plane. But you still spoke reverently, as though our dearly departed comrades could really hear you, and it made an impression.

"As you once honored the valiant dead, so do we now honor you. It's been a long time, and we've had false starts along the way, but tonight everything comes together. That much we're sure of. We're ready to defend this city against anarchy, against total chaos. We're ready to fight and die in your name, a name now universally despised for what you tried to do. But we know that it wasn't _you_, General, who did all those things. The man we honor today and the one we'll die for tonight is the one who led us through the night into Wutai and brought us victory, vindicated us and validated our existences."

Murmurs of assent rippled through the gathered ranks, and Karsk did nothing to discourage them. This was as much for them as it was for the General, after all.

He concluded, "We'll fight for you, and all that you stood for: a civilized existence, an end to the chaos, safety for both the conquerors and the conquered. Your ideals will guide us in our struggle and pull us through the long night to see the dawn."

Karsk saluted. "Sir."

Behind him, his men did the same, the sound of rustling cloth and the faint _thud_s of hands against foreheads ringing out in the silence. "Sir."

* * *

Reno and Rude had torn up downtown Wutai for a while, enjoying the thrill of shooting down streets at nearly two hundred kilometers an hour. Reno was also enjoying the feeling of Yuffie holding onto him for dear life, pressing herself up against his back. He'd have slowed down if her gleeful expression hadn't told him that she was having just as much fun as he was. 

Eventually, though, her motion sickness started to get the better of her, and Reno called it a day for reckless driving. "Time to suit me up."

Now they were in _La Boutique Exotique_, some Gongagan chain of high-class clothing stores that had recently rooted itself in Wutai. Business was apparently poor, and not only because nobody in Wutai really favored Eastern suits; the isolationist sentiment coursing through the town hadn't abated much, even after Reno's speech, and _La Boutique Exotique_ had been dealing with it for a couple weeks now.

Reno stood before a full-length mirror, critically examining himself in it and fidgeting uncomfortably at the collar he wore. Meanwhile, Rude stood by stoically, brushing invisible dust particles off of his umbrella, and Yuffie alternately shook her head in mock shame and held her face in her hands.

Fashion was not Reno's department. He'd decided that if he was going to show up at this Hancho game dressed in a suit that wasn't mussed and crinkled, it was going to be a flashy one. He was going to make an impression, dammit. So he'd walked in, looked around, asked to see what the proprietor had in the back, and had picked out a zoot suit.

It was black, mostly, featuring a motif of vertical stripes that alternated between matte black and glossy black, making him shimmer when he moved. The trousers, tightly cuffed at the ankles, were much larger and looser throughout the leg. The coat was long, hanging down below his waist level, with wide lapels and heavily padded shoulders that flared out a good inch beyond Reno's own and made him look much broader. On his feet Reno had black, shiny, pointed shoes, and beneath the suit jacket he wore a white, collared and buttoned shirt. He also wore a white tie, with a single turquoise stud several inches beneath the knot to match his eyes.

"Reno. No," Yuffie said.

Reno turned and then did a little pirouette, snapping his fingers to a tune that only he heard. "I like it. Makes me stand out."

"You're not Gongagan or Mideelan or from Costa Del Sol. You're whiter than slate marble."

"Stands out against my skin."

"People will beat the _shit_ out of you for wearing that."

Another insouciant grin, followed by a bring-it-on gesture. "They sure as hell can try. I like this suit, and it's what I'll show up wearing tonight. What do you think, partner?"

Rude raised his eyes from his umbrella, scanned Reno up and down, then asked, "Do they have another one?"

* * *

They returned to Yuffie's house with a pair of zoot suits in tow. Reno had offered to get Yuffie a dress, but she said she'd be given a ceremonial betrothal gown. 

On the floor underneath her mail slot, there were three gold-bordered envelopes.

Picking one up, Yuffie ripped it open and dumped out a formal letter of invitation addressed to Reno, inviting him to a Hancho game held in the back room of the Scarlet Monastery at six o'clock that evening. "It's for you," she said to Reno, nabbing the other two. "These two should be for Rude and me."

Reno inspected the letter and laughed. "Perfect. I'll call up Jobs and tell him to get inside somehow and we'll roll."

Yuffie stared at him. "You're _excited_ about this, aren't you?"

With a small shrug, the redhead replied, "Why not? Life-changing event, high possibility of some action… I'd say that's pretty exciting." He looked at his letter again. "Esteemed Mr. Reno, you are cordially invited to a soirée… Heh. Soirée. I love it. So, sugar. You ready to go, or d'you want to pick your own poison at the last minute?"

Pulling Reno into a hug, Yuffie whispered in his ear, "If I didn't trust you, Reno, I would have tried to figure a way out of this myself. But I'm leaving it all to you – I think you're motivated enough."

Withdrawing a pace, Reno arranged his expression into one of gentlemanly benevolence and gave her a scraping bow from the waist. "Mr. Rude and I will endeavor to deliver you from this most unfortunate fate, m'lady."

She snorted. "Fairy."

"Sorry," Reno laughed. "Dunno where my head went. Lemme put it another way: anyone who tries to marry you besides me is getting intimately acquainted with my prod. That better?"

Yuffie nodded and then impulsively pulled Reno back into a hug, grabbing Rude and pulling him in as well. "Thanks, guys."

"You're welcome," Rude said, crammed between Reno and Yuffie's arm, his umbrella pointing outwards so it didn't poke anyone. "We'll take care of everything. Right, partner?"

Reno winked. "It's a date."

* * *

A voice...

"_Come one and all to the soirée_

_Where the rich look for a good lay_

_To cut events of their poor day_

_And feast on proles for the entrée._

_----- _

"_Come one and all to the soirée_

_Where sycophants come laugh and bray_

_And killers watch the cabaret_

_Stacking victims like bales of hay._

_----- _

"_Come one and all to the soirée_

_Where all your needs are met with 'nay'_

_Where, when you want to get away_

_Men with guns request simply, 'Stay.'_"

...and then impatient silence.


	24. Chapter XXIV

Evening, readers. As the hilarious Mr. Tinkles of _Cats and Dogs_ fame would say, "Our day has come!"

Short disclaimer: if you don't remember how the hell Hancho is played, I recommend you briefly revisit Chapter XIV. I know _I _had to. Enjoy Chapter XXIV.

* * *

It was evening, about five-thirty, when it came time for everyone to assemble. 

The sun had disappeared behind the edge of Da Chao, casting the Scarlet Monastery into shadow. Its lights shone out like beacons from its windows, welcoming weary travelers or people with something more high-stakes in mind.

Like all extremely high-class restaurants, the Scarlet Monastery had valets. You pulled your car or vehicle up to the entrance and they went and parked it for you, like little cogs in a machine. Sometimes you tipped them for their service, sometimes you didn't. It was not often, though, that a valet was afforded the chance to not only get tipped generously five times in one night, but by high-ranking biker gang lords, ex-military officers, old strategic geniuses, and infamous foreigners as well.

Zhong had worked as a valet for about five years. He was good at it, polite enough. He knew how to ride a bike, which gave him an advantage in the business, though he'd never consider joining a bike gang.

It came as a surprise when Makoto, leader of the Shinsengumi, rode up on his white-and-blue motorcycle, dressed in a formal kamishimo outfit bearing the same colors, looking for all the world like some god of the warring states resurrected on a metal mount. Clinging excitedly to his back was a young geisha, dressed in an exquisite kimono with a pattern of clouded mountaintops and forests running along its length, the twists of the rocks mirroring her curves.

"Take her around back," Makoto said without giving Zhong half a glance. "Here, for your trouble." And he dropped a five-hundred-gil coin in Zhong's hand.

"Yessir!"

The valet gingerly mounted the Shinsengumi leader's bike and felt its engine roar throatily as he goosed the throttle. _Wow_. Driving with extra care, Zhong took the bike around to the back and parked it, secured it, and moved back around front to wait for the next patron.

Up came a sleek, black car, and it did not escape Zhong's eyes, even in the poor light, that it was obviously armored. The passenger stepped out, opening the door rather than having his driver do it for him, and Zhong was staring at the craggy features of Sub-General Karsk. The man wore his variation on the old military uniform, freshly ironed until its edges looked sharp enough to cut.

"Take her around back, please," he said. "My driver's accompanying me inside. Arcturus?"

A positively enormous man folded himself out of the driver's door and dropped the car keys in Zhong's hand.

"And don't forget to tip him."

With a nod, Arcturus fished into the pocket of the too-small suit he was wearing and pressed another five hundred gil into Zhong's other palm, then disappeared into the restaurant after his commander.

Zhong tried to keep from grinning and drove the car around back, then returned, thinking this night could not get any better.

He was wrong. A small, midnight-blue sports car rolled up and disgorged an old man that Zhong recognized from his school's history books as Souta the Cunning, the great strategist who had refused to help Wutai against the Shin-Ra. Nobody blamed him, though; as a result of his foresight, he'd survived the postwar economic depression and helped the government back onto its feet. The strategist was wearing a simple scholar's robe, matte black, that swirled around him and looked oddly fitting, despite its anachronistic nature.

"My keys," Souta said, handing them to Zhong. "And take this as well."

Boom. Four hundred gil.

Another trip to the parking lot, another silent spree of jumping around and pumping his fists in joy, and then back to the front of the Scarlet Monastery. With the way things were going right now, Zhong wouldn't be surprised if Seiryū himself showed up and handed him a bag of gems.

The last great event of the evening came shortly afterwards, at about five-fifty. Zhong had thought the excitement was finally starting to die down when a pair of men came roaring up on two bikes that looked like they'd been pulled right out of the manliest, most testosterone-ripped action movies known to humankind. Both of them dismounted smoothly, one helping his plainly dressed Wutainese girlfriend off of his bike. The two of them exhibited an aura of debonair assurance, heightened by the stylish zoot suits they wore – not to mention the broad-brimmed black fedoras and black leather gloves they sported. The red-haired one looked oddly familiar to Zhong, but between the outfit and the long, glossy black cane, with the curving, smooth white handle he gripped it by, recognition evaded the valet.

"Evening," the redhead drawled. "Take our rides around back, will you? And keep this; I'm feelin' generous tonight."

Seven hundred gil. Oh _yes_. This guy was _loaded_.

Zhong hummed a happy tune to himself. Whatever all these people were here for, it had to be big. At least five bigwigs in one place, apparently up to something very important… Twenty-one-hundred gil was good, but the Shattered Hand would pay even better for intel like this.

Time to take a break.

* * *

"We're here for Lord Godo's… _soirée_," Reno told the receptionist. 

"Of course," she said, obviously making an effort not to gawk at Reno's and Rude's attire. "Lady Kisaragi, I take it?"

"Yeah," Yuffie said.

"You'll need to get into a betrothal robe. Lord Godo has a lady waiting for you in the other part of the back room." The receptionist gestured at a small door down the wall from a large set of ornate, red double doors. "As for you two gentlemen, might I see your invitations?"

With a flourish, Reno produced his own from his sleeve and handed it to her. Rude simply withdrew it from his breast pocket and then did the same.

"Very good, Mr. Reno and Mr. Rude. Please follow me."

"See you in a bit, Yuffie," the redhead said, stretching. He and Rude followed the receptionist towards the double doors, Reno affecting a swagger that somehow swung his hips around in the suit while keeping his walk straight.

"I love you," Yuffie called to his back.

He turned on his heel and grinned. "I know."

As they passed through the double doors, Reno commented to Rude, "You know what the difference is between you and me?"

"What?"

"I make this look _good_."

* * *

The person in attendance in the small dressing room was a short, middle-aged Wutainese woman. She looked Yuffie up and down disapprovingly and then spoke in Wutainese. "Well, there's not much we'll be able to do about your hair. So unat_tract_ive." 

"Yeah, up yours too," Yuffie replied.

Obviously feeling maligned, the woman threw up her hands with no small amount of staged exasperation. "This is what I go through. How utterly _ter_rible." She jabbed a finger at the closet on the other side of the room. "Your betrothal robe is in there. Try to look as ig_nom_iniously ratty in it as you do in those rags. After you change I'll help you adjust everything p_rop_erly." Giving a final huff of indignation, the woman moved into the larger back room adjacent where the Hancho game would be played.

Yuffie drew in a deep breath and then moved to the closet and opened it.

"Hello," Deman Jobs said.

The ninja-girl nearly screamed in surprise, but she caught herself. Jobs had somehow gotten inside and was standing, ramrod-straight, next to her betrothal gown, an overlarge thing made of crimson silk and decorated with gold trim.

"What are you doing in here?"

"Listening to that lo_qua_cious woman and her ab_hor_rent linguistic quirks."

In spite of herself, Yuffie snorted gently at that. "You're a stupid mean bastard, but you have a good sense of humor. You understand Wutainese?"

"Yes. And it's not that difficult to imitate that poor old creature – stressing syllables out of place is easy in any language."

"'Course. Mind letting me change in private?"

"Of course." Giving her an only slightly mocking bow, Jobs stepped out of the closet and let himself into the back room. There were no audible shouts of surprise following his entrance, so Yuffie assumed that everyone was losing their voice or nobody was surprised, one being more likely than the other.

She changed as quickly as she could, though getting into the robe was no mean feat – it was a large piece of fabric, and it had only one place for her to cram her slim body through. How fat girls would ever manage she had no idea. She made sure to conceal deep in her sleeve the extra article she'd brought along – call it backup.

After about five minutes, the woman came back in and gave Yuffie one hell of a stink-eye – she probably blamed the ninja-girl for the sudden appearance of a mysterious foreign stranger that didn't have an invitation. The woman sat Yuffie down in front of a mirror and painted her face white, her lips ruby, and did her best to smooth out her hair. She slipped ornate golden fingernail guards, modeled after Seiryū cresting through an ocean wave, onto both of Yuffie's pinkies, and then as a final touch placed a golden tiara with a single white diamond in it on her head.

The damn thing was heavy, heavier than Yuffie liked, and it didn't fit her very well – but she had to admit, looking in the mirror, that she looked a hell of a lot more refined than she could ever recall feeling.

"There. Now at least you look like a princess," the woman muttered. "Your other outfit doesn't do you anything re_mot_ely resembling justice." She turned Yuffie around in her seat and helped her stand. "Now, when you enter the room, kneel at the nearest end of the mat, place your hands de_mur_ely in your lap, and don't say a word until you've been won."

"Sure. Cool," Yuffie muttered, moving with some difficulty towards the door.

"Have a nice life, Princess."

* * *

Silence fell across the back room like a stifling blanket as the door swung open and Yuffie entered. Reno suppressed a whistle, thinking that the occasion would render it inappropriate, and watched her walk to the edge of the mat and kneel. 

The back room was large, rectangular, at least twenty-four feet by twelve feet. It had a rich mahogany floor, on which was laid a single, long series of tatami mats that stretched across the room's center line and provided the area on which to play Hancho. Yuffie was seated on one end; on the other side sat Grandpa Souta, Rei, Rude, Arcturus, and Jobs, who had been allowed to stay.

At the center of the mat there were four lines of ink, originating at one point on the north side and spanning out like rays of a sunrise to the opposite side, spaced so the areas between the lines were about three feet at their widest point. Sitting so they corresponded with these marked areas were Reno, Makoto, and Karsk.

Sitting at the origin of the lines was Godo, dressed in severe, midnight warlord's robes, wearing a single red headband with the characters of Wutai inscribed on it in gold, as was customary for a transaction like this when he was involved. In front of him sat three cups with two dice each, three cho-han stamps with accompanying ink pads, and nine sheaves of fine kozo paper.

"Let those gathered witnesses – Souta the Cunning, Rei, Rude of Shin-Ra, Arcturus, and Deman Jobs – note our gathering with interest," Godo intoned. "Before you sits Lord Godo the Great Tiger of Wutai. He presents his daughter, Princess Kisaragi Yuffie the Single White Rose of Wutai, to the winner of this solemn game of Hancho – Makoto, leader of the Shinsengumi, Sub-General Karsk, or, in the event of Reno of Shin-Ra's victory, Rufus Shin-Ra."

"So noted," Souta and Rei both said, with Rude, Arcturus, and Jobs following suit a moment later.

"There are three suitors," Godo continued. "One round for each. At the conclusion of our game, there will be no violence amongst you. The winner will have my daughter, and will pledge his support to my government."

"As agreed," Reno, Makoto, and Karsk responded.

"Additionally," Godo said, and his eyes glinted at this, "there will be some modifications to the game rules, in the interests of... _celebrating_ the occasion." Nobody spoke, wondering what the hell was up now. "Non-voided choices are hereby allowed to be applied to any player, including the owner of the choices, immediately. Furthermore, there will be a maximum of one bonus point gained from each player if they should have one or more inapplicable choices. Is this understood?"

"Yes," Reno, Makoto, and Karsk said. Reno narrowed his eyes slightly in thought; obviously these changes had been made to seal off possible avenues of exploitation that hadn't even occurred to _him_. Yuffie's father was going all-out with this.

Expelling a deep sigh, Godo gave a gesture, and the three men in front of him leaned forward, each taking a dice cup, a stamp and its ink pad, and three sheaves of paper.

"Prepare!"

Reno had gone over what to do with Makoto moments before Yuffie entered, and was more than ready. He placed the dice cup directly in front of him so its open top was pointing at the ceiling, opened the ink pad for his stamp, pressed the cho into the ink and left it there, and laid the sheaves of kozo paper out so they did not overlap. Makoto and Karsk did the same.

"Ready!"

The three took hold of their dice cups.

"_Tanka o kiru_!"

* * *

Zhong took his own car. No sense in taking one of the customers' and possibly getting in trouble for it later. Not that the Scarlet Monastery would survive a direct attack by the bike gangs, but then again, you couldn't be too careful. 

With the money the gang would no doubt pay him for this information, Zhong could move to a better part of the city and get the job he'd been offered but unable to take due to travel time from his current apartment. Things were finally looking up.

He pulled up near the Shattered Hand headquarters, got out, and ran up to the entrance. Two surly-looking bikers stood there, and it was oddly quiet.

"Hello! I have information for your gang!" Zhong shouted.

The bikers exchanged glances with one another and then the older-looking one said, "How generous. I figure you'll be wantin' cash."

"Not _too_ much," Zhong asserted. "But I can tell you where to go to take out Sub-General Karsk, the Shinsengumi leader Makoto, and – get this – that foreigner who made the speech to the Council." Zhong was particularly proud of that last bit; he'd figured it out by running down a mental list of foreigners he would know for some cosmic reason and arrived at the redhead on the television.

Another exchange of glances. "Well, well. Why don't you come inside?"

* * *

Reno flipped his cup and slammed the dice to the mat just as Makoto and Karsk did. Going on an instinct, he took the stamp, marked down two cho, then flipped the switch to bring around the other side of the stamp and put one han. Afterwards, he flipped the paper face down – a detail Makoto had forgotten to mention back in the Kanbe-ya but had remembered now – and slid it forward to Godo. Makoto and Karsk also slid forward their paper. 

Godo took them into his great hands and squeezed them into tiny, crinkled wisps before letting them drop, haphazardly, to the mat.

Before Yuffie had come in, Karsk had explained to Reno the symbolism behind the crushing of the paper. You went into the business world with certain ideals, he'd said – the markings you made on your paper – and then had them chewed up and crushed by the machine. When you finally managed to get them back, they were almost always radically changed, and you had to eliminate one or two to stay competitive.

Or, at least, that was what the men who had invented the game had gone through.

One piece landed in each of their designated areas. Reno snatched his up and pulled it back flat. Two cho, one han. Might have been his, might not have – didn't matter. Deciding to play it safe for the first round, Reno voided one cho.

"Display!" Godo barked.

The three men revealed their dice. Reno had cho, and both Makoto and Karsk had han. _Yes. Awesome_. Makoto also had a paper with two cho, one han, and he'd voided a cho. Karsk had been unlucky, getting a three-cho paper. He'd voided one, but it would still hurt him.

"Declare!"

"Cho to me, han to Karsk," Reno said.

"Cho to Reno, han to Karsk," Makoto said.

"Cho to Reno, other cho inapplicable," Karsk said.

"First round set," Godo barked. "Reno: three points. Makoto: three points. Karsk: no points. Commence round two!"

Reno flipped his cup, tossed his dice inside, and slid his used paper into the center of the table, as did Makoto and Karsk. Godo placed the papers beside him on the floor.

"_Tanka o kiru_!"

Down went the cups. Dice rattled. Reno thought about it; he'd go two han, one cho this time. Paper crinkled as it slid face-down across the tatami, then gave a crackly death cry as it was engulfed in Godo's iron grip and let drop again.

One was allotted to Reno. He took it and opened it up.

_Shit_. This time he'd gotten the three-cho paper. Makoto or Karsk was being very cute, and he was about to get his ass burned for it unless he was lucky. He quickly voided one of the cho.

"Display!"

Not good. Three han, just like that. Reno was stuck with two inapplicable cho, while Makoto had gotten two han, one cho and luckily voided the cho. Karsk had gotten three han – someone was being very cute indeed – and hadn't voided any of them, taking a chance. He was looking relieved.

"Declare!"

"Both cho inapplicable," Reno said, trying not to spit the words.

"Han to Reno, han to me," Makoto said.

"Han to Reno, han to Makoto, han to me," Karsk said.

"Second round set," Godo declared. "Reno: one point. Makoto: six points. Karsk: four points. Commence final round!"

Reno suddenly felt very hot in the previously comfortable zoot suit. He resisted the urge to tug at his collar and focused on arranging everything for the final round. It didn't really matter who won, of course, since they had all agreed for different reasons that they'd find a way to get Yuffie out of this, but it was still important to Reno. He wanted to win, dammit.

And there was what had happened the night previous, of course.

_You know_, Reno had said to Yuffie as they lay together in the aftermath, soaking up the warmth of one another's bodies, _some things really are too good to be true_.

It had just been a sort of cosmic observation, but Yuffie had taken him up on it. _Like me_?

_Nah. I'm afraid to say anything that might tempt fate and make you go away._

_Let's take a chance, then_, she'd said. _If you win the Hancho game tomorrow – and this will be for _you_, not for Rufus – I'll run away with you if Dad won't come off of the marriage thing._

_That's exactly what you've been avoiding, though_, Reno had said, confused.

_Yeah. But if you're willing to give up your job for me, I could give up my home. It's… equal, kind of. And you winning would really mean that it's meant to be, you know_?

_Yeah, I know_. He'd drifted off for a moment, considering it, and then sealed the pact with a kiss.

_Screw losing._

"_Tanka o kiru_!"

Reno flipped the cup and ground it into the tatami. He was not going to lose – not going to lose the game, not going to lose this battle of ideologies, not going to lose Yuffie. And it was time he stopped toeing the line when it came to these things and went all-out.

Three cho. If Karsk and Makoto were going to be cute about this, he'd damn well be cute too.

He slid the paper to Godo and stared at it for a moment before the Lord of Wutai took it into his hand with the other two and crumpled them up, then dropped them.

Two of the papers came to rest, but one bounced, rolling right up to Reno and stopping just short of his dice cup. Karsk and Makoto took the other two.

Fingers trembling with trepidation, he smoothed out the paper and stared at it.

Three cho. Reno had gotten his own damn paper back.

"Display!"

* * *

The bikers in the Shattered Hand headquarters were all injured or recovering from injuries. Zhong was led straight to the second-in-command, who was still recuperating from having his bike blown out from underneath him by a rocket – unpleasant, to say the least. 

"How gen'rous of you to bring us this valuable info," the biker laughed, clutching at his side where it was bandaged with his right arm, as his left arm was wrapped in a cast. "We'll give you a tip for it, but not the usual rate – the Shattered Hand likes guys on our side, but not guys who give us outdated stuff."

Zhong frowned. "What do you mean? Where is everyone, and why would my information be outdated? It's happening _tonight_!"

Laughing even harder, the biker slapped his thigh and exclaimed, "That's what's so damn funny. Nobody has any idea. But… we know all about this, see. Our supplier was way ahead of Godo on this. So much for the location of this thing being 'secure' – we have everyone, who wasn't trashed yesterday raiding the Shinsengumi headquarters, en route to ruin some shit."

* * *

Reno, Makoto, and Karsk displayed. 

Three cho.

Something inside Reno gave way, and he sagged in relief. He hadn't voided any of his cho, figuring that if he was going to go out he would go out with a bang. Karsk had gotten two cho, one han, and voided a cho, and Makoto had ended up with the ultimately damning paper – three han. He'd voided one, but it wasn't enough.

"Declare!"

"Cho to me, cho to Makoto, cho to Karsk," Reno said.

"Both han inapplicable," Makoto sighed.

"Cho to Makoto, han inapplicable," Karsk said.

"Game set," Lord Godo declared. "Reno: six points. Makoto: four points. Karsk: five points. Reno has won the game, and Yuffie will marry Rufus Shin-Ra."

_Here goes nothing_.

Reno stood, dusted off his shoulders, and said, "I don't think so, Mr. Godo."

The man's brow creased. "There's nothing to think on, Mr. Reno. Yuffie will wed Rufus, and the government will receive Shin-Ra support."

Stubbornly, the redhead shook his head. "Nope, not happening. Yuffie, tell him what you told me last night."

Smiling at Reno, Yuffie turned to her father and said, "Dad, last night –"

She couldn't say anything else before the sky fell in on them.

There was a monumental explosion that shook the building wildly, throwing all of them to the ground. A second one went off, much closer by, the volume deafening. Reno laid flat and pulled his hands over his head, thinking the roof would fall in on them. There was another roar, different from that of an explosion but barely audible to Reno's stunned ears. A bright light exploded behind his eyes and he lost consciousness.

It seemed only a moment later that Reno felt himself being shaken back to consciousness by Karsk. He cracked open an eye and winced as pain began to radiate steadily from his ears.

Karsk's lips moved; no sound came from them, or maybe Reno just couldn't hear it. He focused on the Sub-General's mouth and said, "I can't hear you!"

The brow creased and the mouth formed the word "what."

"I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"

Pulling Reno to his feet, Karsk staggered back a bit and then helped Rude up. "THE BOMBS WERE NEARBY!" he shouted, barely audible. "WE'VE BEEN TEMPORARILY DEFEANED!"

"WE'RE FINE!" Grandpa Souta yelled from by Rude, Rei, Arcturus, and Jobs, all of whom were conscious, though obviously uncomfortable due to their ears. Makoto and Godo were also up. "WHAT ABOUT EVERYONE ELSE?"

Reno quickly surveyed the area. The room was in shambles, but everyone looked fine. "LOOKS LIKE WE'RE ALL INTACT… Wait!" He looked around again, turquoise eyes widening and searching desperately.

"Where's Yuffie? YUFFIE!"

Godo slammed a fist against the ground and spoke more quietly now that they were beginning to get their hearing back. "They must have taken her while we were out! Damn it all!"

They all stood in impotent silence for a moment before Rude summed it up: "You should have taken the master of ceremonies' advice and moved this to an auspicious date."

Nobody argued.


	25. Chapter XXV

So I guess email notification is down or something. I check my email this morning, nothing there. I pop on two hours later in third period after grading some papers? Bam. Suddenly four or five reviews show up that weren't there before and that I never got a notification on. Now I have to log in every time I want to see if people have submitted their thoughts for my digestion.

Grumble.

Chapter XXV, for you hungry readers.

* * *

A fourth explosion went off just as Godo was giving Rude a sort of pinched, _shut-the-hell-up_ look. This one was even louder than the rest, but it deafened none of them; they could clearly hear the sound of part of the building collapsing in the explosion's wake. 

"We're leaving," Makoto said, standing protectively near Rei. "There's a back exit, right?"

Grandpa Souta shook his head. "No. The Scarlet Monastery was constructed in the fashion of the old monastery-temple to Da Chao that was erected here before it was destroyed in the war. That building had only one entrance and exit, and so does this one."

"It's got more than one by now," Rude observed, "and it's going to have a hell of a lot more real soon. Everyone up against the north wall." Without bothering to elaborate, he strode up to the south wall and pulled something out of his left shoe. It was a small, grey disc the size of his thumbnail, and he affixed it firmly to the wall. "Get down," he added before pressing in the center of the device in.

It started beeping and flashing red. Reno had a moment of recognition, a flashback to Karsk's place, before he jammed his fingers in his ears and hit the deck.

The room shook and more dust fell from the ceiling, but Rude had successfully punched a sizable hole in the wall – sizable enough that they could see the night sky through it.

"Mind explaining how an explosion big enough to make that hole didn't kill all of us?" Reno asked offhandedly.

"Smallest shaped charge in existence. R&D makes them. I have four more."

"Great. Let's get out of here."

The eight of them scrambled out the hole, and they were standing at the base of Da Chao. Rei peered into the still-smoky room as she stepped out onto soil and asked, "Did anyone see what happened to the woman who helped Yuffie into that outfit?"

"Probably dead," Reno replied. "Nothing we can do right now except get to our bikes and figure out what the hell is going on. Karsk, I thought you had men stationed around this place!"

Karsk didn't bother to reply; he already had a transmitter out and was barking into it. The reply was audible to everyone: "Ayaro here, Sarge. We had our boys on the roofs covering the place, looking for any signs of an incoming attack. The bastards slipped right through our psychology, sir. We were looking for them to be going in with cannons and engines blazing. They just cruised up solo or in twos, going the goddamned speed limit, like they didn't have a care in the world, and didn't open up until they were within range."

"I should have anticipated that," Karsk spat. "Whoever the supplier of the bike gangs is, we're dealing with quite a character. Dispatch alpha and beta squads, Ayaro. Secure the streets around the Pagoda for Lord Godo's arrival, and secure what's left of the Scarlet Monastery. Tell delta squad to make sure our condominium stays secure."

"Mern here," broke in a new voice. "Sarge, I have incoming bandits from all directions and multiple small explosions being touched off in and around the restaurant. They're trying to smoke you out and kill you when you're outside."

"We can get to our vehicles from here," Grandpa Souta interjected. "We just need to climb a ways up Da Chao, get onto what's left of the roof, traverse it, and land in the parking lot where the valets take clients' vehicles. Makoto, Karsk, you'll have to lose your bright-colored clothing, but the rest of us should blend well enough. Rei will have to make do."

"Did you hear that, Mern?" Karsk asked.

"Yessir. I'll warn you if I see any activity that indicates they've caught onto you."

"Good man. Karsk out." Immediately the Sub-General began shucking his uniform to reveal that he was wearing a black covert ops jumpsuit, a thick cloth thing that was armored around the forearms, abdomen, and groin. Reno gawked for a moment, wondering how the man could have gotten his uniform on over it, and Karsk explained, "My uniform's custom-tailored to be worn over this suit – it's why I look thicker when I'm wearing it."

"And I thought I was being polite, not telling you that you're not as slim as you think you are," Jobs chuckled.

Makoto pulled off his light-blue and white uniform and tossed it back into the now-burning back room, revealing that he, too, had elected to wear a darkly colored jumpsuit beneath, though this one sported no armor and as such was easily worn beneath other clothing. "Right. Time for a stroll."

* * *

Yuffie's evening was turning out fantastically. 

There had been an explosion or two, and before she'd been able to get up something had hit her over the back of the head. When she'd woken up, she'd found herself still wearing the betrothal robe, tied hand and foot, and stuffed into what seemed to be a large, burlap sack.

Between the heat trapped by the heavy robe, the closeness of the sack, and the fact that she had obviously been thrown unceremoniously into the trunk of a car with very poor suspension that kept rocking up and down as it sped along to its destination, she was going to be sick.

At first she'd tried slamming her feet against the wall of the trunk that she estimated was closest to the passenger's section of the car, but that had just earned her a gunshot fired through the backseat. It had missed her, but she knew better than to try again. Besides, she wanted to meet whoever it was that was behind all this.

_Reno's gonna be pissed, though_.

* * *

The bikers milling in front of what was left of the burning Scarlet Monastery knew that police weren't coming. The force was already tied up with an anti-foreigner riot that had been incited in the town square where the Orochimaru had kicked the bucket as a gang. Bikers weren't naturally inclined to patience, so they spun doughnuts on their bikes, cruised around the street and over the curb, occasionally knocking out a window as they puttered by it. 

They were completely unprepared to be laid into by two assault bikes.

The roar of two engines rose out of the Scarlet Monastery's parking lot. Before any of the bikers had a chance to react, two bikes shot out at them – a chrome one and a crimson one – and they both did wheelies.

Rude's rocket took out an entire cluster of the enemy at once, sending bits and pieces of bike and biker alike flying everywhere. Reno waited until a moment after to fire the Marclite affixed to his undercarriage.

The Mini-Arclite cannon, an autocannon with a barrel the size of a basketball, swung out from its recess in the bottom of Reno's bike and spoke throatily after Rude's rocket exploded. Reno laughed as the force of the weapon discharging kicked his bike right off of its back wheel, launching him completely into the air for a moment before he slammed back down hard on the pavement. The bike held up beautifully, though, a testament to Grandpa Souta's engineering.

Going wide of its target, the round smashed through a glass display case of china and tore a lamppost in half before thudding to a stop in a concrete wall. Reno looked sheepishly at Rude and grinned, then gunned the engine. "Let's go!"

They went at the enemy head-on, Rude brandishing his umbrella, Reno holding his black-lacquered cane. Damned if he'd ever tell anyone, but Rude kicking ass with the umbrella had made him somewhat jealous, so he'd dropped by a cane store during the afternoon and picked up this fashionable little number on the principle that it looked good and happened to be hollow to make it lighter. He'd popped the smooth, faux-ivory grip off of the top so he could work, opened up the bottom, rigged it with a spring set off by pushing in the handle, and stuck his prod inside. It had taken him about half an hour.

The cane's tip made a distinctly metallic sound whenever it hit a surface, now, but it was worth it to be able to give the handle a sharp push and pop a fully-working electric prod out. For the purposes of the cane, Reno had turned on the prod's auto-shock system. When it was struck against something with enough force, it automatically discharged an electroshock. He normally didn't use the feature, but it wasn't like he could push the button from here.

By now the bikers had had a chance to regroup. Twelve of them rallied at the far end of the street and came roaring at the two Turks, brandishing guns and swords. Rude, his expression suggesting that he was doing something mundane, like shopping for leeks, extended his dual N17Bs and opened fire.

Three of the bikers instantly went down, and two more swerved out of the way and into one another. Reno shouted at Rude to brake a moment before he punched the acceleration, opened his flamethrower hatches, and twisted his bike into a hard one-eighty turn. He hit the thumbswitch and triggered twin twenty-foot jet-streams of brilliant flame as the rear of his bike swung around.

The bikers, none of them even having the presence of mind to be firing their guns, rode into a literal wall of flame.

Reno whooped delightedly as the now-riderless bikes veered out of control and smashed themselves into walls and skidded to uneasy halts along the pavement. "Gotcha!"

Immediately, Grandpa Souta's car, with Rei and Jobs inside, made a break for it, screeching out of the parking lot and heading for his compound. Grandpa Souta and Rei were going to hide there until the situation stabilized, with Jobs being sent along to escort them. He'd protested, but Reno sticking his derringer up the man's nose had _persuaded _him.

Karsk's car followed a moment later, Arcturus at the wheel, Karsk in the back, relaying orders. They were probably headed for Karsk's condominium where he could take charge of his forces and set strategies in motion. Godo's car succeeded Karsk's and took off in the direction of the Pagoda.

Now Makoto joined Reno and Rude, his bike's white and blue easily visible even in the evening light. He was visibly scowling.

"What's up?" Reno asked, retracting the flamethrowers.

"Somebody's going to pay real dearly for this," Makoto growled. "When I got to my bike, the Kikuichi-monji was gone. Whoever it was stole it right out of the clasps I had it in." He gestured to a series of ragged, screw-sized metal holes in the side of his chassis. "Ripped them right off."

Reno whistled. "Damn. He must have _really_ liked your sword. You got a backup?"

With a small sigh of vexation, Makoto nodded and pulled a sword from his back. It wasn't a _dao_, but instead was a double-edged, straight longsword about the length of a _katana_. "It's called a _jian_," he explained briefly. "The 'gentleman's sword.' It's actually better for Shiranui-ryu than a _dao_ is, but I would still prefer the Kikuichi-monji."

"You'll just have to deal. Ten gil says that they took Yuffie to the Shattered Hand headquarters. They got the best chance of holding onto her there." Reno looked at Rude. "Any bets, partner?"

"Ten gil says that you'd win, so we both break even. After you."

* * *

Yuffie yelped as she was dumped unceremoniously out of the burlap sack onto a hard floor. It was dark, though there was some kind of faint green glow in the air. She'd landed on her face, so the ninja-girl rolled around until she was on her back, looking up. 

The position had her staring up at the jade statue of Seiryū, rearing back over an empty pedestal. Her kidnappers had taken her to the shrine of the water god.

Twisting, Yuffie watched the receding feet of the two bikers who'd carried her here. "Hey!" she shouted. "You gonna just leave me here? Hey! I'll get loose, y'know!"

She couldn't actually get loose in any reasonable amount of time. The ropes around her wrists and ankles hadn't been just thrown on sloppily; they'd been double-wrapped and cinched. She'd had no opportunity to screw with the tying, so she wasn't getting unbound anytime soon.

"You _really_ want to just leave me here?"

The doors to the shrine were thrown open as the bikers exited, and the dim moonlight framed the silhouette of another figure, entering.

"On the contrary; I intend to keep you company until your friends arrive."

Yuffie squinted, trying to make out who it was. Then the figure stepped into the light and she yelled, "Holy _shit_!"

* * *

"SHIRANUI-RYU – GŌTSUI MEISEI!" 

Spirit energy rippled up and down Makoto's body, flaming blue-green, and he swung his _jian_ in a wild arc in front of him. The blade spat a rippling thunderbolt of blue fire that blew three Shattered Hand bikers right off of their rides.

"Don't overdo it!" Reno yelled at Makoto as he ducked beneath an enemy biker's strike and jabbed the man hard in the chest with his cane. "Save some juice for when we have to rescue Yuffie!"

The deep pounding of Rude's N17Bs underscored the half-scream, half-gurgle of the next man Makoto blew away. "Relax!" he yelled back. "The Thundering Hammer Howl Strike is a basic technique! Not draining at all!"

Reno eyed what was left of the man who'd been hit by the projectile. His clothes were still bathed in guttering blue fire and all the hair had been burned off of his face and most of his head. _Hell of a technique to just be a basic one_.

The Shattered Hand headquarters was a three-story apartment building with an underground parking garage. The gang had converted the apartments into living area for their large amount of members, and the garage served as an excellent place to keep their rides safe from rain or other undesirable elements.

Now they charged straight at the front door, a large revolving glass thing that had been painted with the image of a purple hand broken into several pieces on all its panes. Arrayed out front were tire spikes and road barricades, behind which were crouched numerous gang members armed with assault rifles. Two of them also sported shoulder-mounted rocket launchers, as well. If Reno squinted, he could see through the glass to the lobby beyond; it was also barricaded up, with armed bikers inside.

The redhead laughed. "Let's ruin some shit."

They all stepped on it, speeding down the street and crouching low in their seats to avoid enemy fire, their reinforced tires riding right over tire spikes like they were a joke. Both bikers with the rocket launchers fired, twin projectiles streaking out at the three of them. One went wide and blew open a water tower on a nearby roof, showering all of them with a fine mist. The other was right on target, though, aimed straight at Rude.

His N17Bs spoke just as Makoto flared up with spirit energy again and launched a Gōtsui Meisei. The rocket wavered in its path as it took several high-caliber rounds to the nose and then detonated far ahead of them when the flaming thunderbolt struck it. As they rode into the spreading cloud of smoke, they were camouflaged for a moment, and both Reno and Rude pulled their bikes off of their front wheels.

Rude fired a single rocket at the barricades. It slipped between two hastily-erected walls and detonated in the middle of the enemy, sending bikers and fortifications alike flying. Reno fired his Marclite a moment later, slamming back down onto his front wheel just in time to see his round hit the mark beautifully. It shot through the revolving door like the thing was made of tissue paper, blowing all the glass out of the surrounding frames in a jagged horizontal hailstorm that mowed down all the bikers with exposed body parts. The round kept going, smashing through barricades and surprised men before finally crashing through the thick metal door of the elevator in the back and coming to a rest.

By the time the three of them pulled up to the Shattered Hand headquarters, nobody inside was left standing.

"Stupid bastards sure as hell picked a bad place to base themselves," Reno commented. "A goddamned front door made of _glass_? Morons."

"I hope you haven't inadvertently hurt Yuffie," Makoto murmured.

"They're keeping her on the third floor or in the parking garage you told us about. Nobody would be stupid enough to keep a valuable hostage on the first floor when they've got heavily armed enemies approaching."

"But these guys _were_ stupid enough to keep a glass front door," Rude observed.

They sat there for a moment, bikes idling, and then Reno killed his engine, leaped off of his bike, and ran in screaming Yuffie's name.

He got no response; either she was out cold, was gagged, or he couldn't hear her. Reno started overturning scattered tables and couches that had been used as cover before he heard a sharp groan from the corner of the room.

Immediately, the redhead moved to the source of the noise and started digging through a veritable pile of wooden debris. Rude and Makoto both killed their engines as well and jumped in to help. In a matter of moments they uncovered the man who was obviously the leader of the Shattered Hand. He had a huge tattoo of a shattered purple hand on his torso, just like the ones painted on the ill-fated front door of the building. He was also full of splinters and glass shrapnel, but Reno didn't really care at the moment.

"Where'd you take her?" Reno demanded immediately. "Where'd you take Yuffie?" The man stared dully at him and Reno cuffed him across the face. "_Yuffie_, you jackass! Where'd you take her?"

"Wutimesit?"

Reno blinked, surprised. "What?"

"What. Time. Is. It?" the man asked. "Tell me and I'll tell you where your broad is."

Scowling, Reno looked at his wristwatch. "Ten to seven. Why?"

The Shattered Hand biker's expression collapsed into a semi-delirious grin. "Good, we bought enough time." He made as though to stretch, but the shrapnel in his gut said otherwise, and he winced and stopped. "Yup, we were just a goddamned decoy. Imagine that. Us, the Shattered Hand, the biggest and baddest bike gang in Wutai."

"Why the hell did you stand for that?" Makoto demanded. "Your head's normally so far up your ass that you get stuck at your shoulders. Why follow someone's orders now?"

The biker started laughing, though all that got him was a hacking cough that spilled blood down the front of his shirt. "Whoever our supplier was… he or she was so far ahead of you guys it's not even funny. I was told that you guys would show up here, and that if we couldn't beat you back, we were supposed to tell you to head to the shrine to Seiryū. Your broad's there."

_Dammit_. Resisting the urge to pull his derringer and put a bullet between the smug biker's eyes, Reno simply rose to his feet, turned, and walked away.

There was the roaring sound of spirit energy gathering, and a scream was choked off as Makoto shouted, "SEIRYŪ SŌSEI!"

A very unpleasant splattering sound followed. Reno didn't bother to look back at what had happened. He simply stepped over a corpse in a valet uniform and said, "Let's go."

* * *

The enemy was waiting for them at the temple to Seiryū, too. 

There were no barricades here, but instead a group of twelve, black-clad mercenaries stood outside the doors, all armed with assault rifles. They were the other half of the squad that Reno and Yuffie had fought with here when they'd come to steal the holy materia. Karsk's men had done a very good job of securing the Pagoda – so good, in fact, that they'd left Godo's house and the temple opposite wide open to enemy occupation.

As Reno, Rude and Makoto roared up the long, steeply inclined road towards the temple and the Pagoda, the squad cocked their weapons and opened fire. Rude returned fire, angling his N17Bs up a little high to try to force the enemy to duck. That proved useless, as they stood their ground and kept up a steady rate of fire. Three-round bursts ricocheted off of the front of Reno's motorcycle and he gritted his teeth, keeping his head low. "We've still got half a mile to go and we can't do wheelies on this hill! If anyone's got any ideas, now's the time!"

Before Rude or Makoto had the chance to come up with a brilliant idea, the gunfire suddenly ceased. The three of them exchanged bemused glances and then drove their bikes up the hill faster, thinking to get to the source of the gunfire and then deal with why it had ceased.

Dealing with it also became a null factor, as when they got to the top of the hill, there was nothing left of the squad except a still-smoking patch of seared ground in front of the temple steps.

Killing their engines, they dismounted, Reno taking his cane, Rude his umbrella and the N17B Reno had gotten from the first half of the now-late squad, and Makoto his _jian_.

"We don't know what the hell is going on in there," Reno said quietly to Rude and Makoto. "Stay sharp. We'll all go in through the front, but be ready to split off if necessary."

"Roger," Makoto replied. Rude nodded gravely.

In they went.

* * *

Karsk stared speechlessly at the image he was seeing on the monitors in his room. Mern was replaying the events of twenty minutes ago for him to confirm that they'd been completely and utterly blindsided. 

"We could never have expected this," Karsk growled. "Right where we were most vulnerable, we got hit." He whirled to Arcturus. "Arcturus, get David and Mengsk. Outfit yourselves with some heavy weapons."

"Yessir."

The shadows of the Sub-General's face vanished as he turned back to stare at the cold glow of the monitors. "We have an appointment at the temple of Seiryū with some allies of ours."

* * *

The first thing Reno saw upon entering the temple was the great jade statue of Seiryū, illuminated and set aglow by the dim moonlight. All the temple was charged with a soft green light, giving it an eerie feeling. 

Immediately afterwards, Reno's gaze was dragged back to the ground to see Yuffie lying at the foot of the statue, trying to wriggle out of ropes around her wrists and ankles.

"YUFFIE!"

The ninja-girl rolled over onto her side to face him and yelled back, "RENO!"

Shouldering his cane, Reno dashed across the temple floor and skidded to a halt on his knees next to her. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

"They stuffed me in a sack, but I'm fine. Forget about me, dammit, he's still here!"

Reno frowned. "What? Who?" He called over his shoulder, "Makoto, get over here with that sword of yours and cut Yuffie loose!"

No response.

Twisting to look behind him, Reno saw no trace of Rude or Makoto having followed him inside. It was as if they'd simply vanished. Yuffie suddenly gave a sharp gasp, and Reno whirled back around to find the Kikuichi-monji's point a centimeter away from his face.

Slowly, Reno's eyes traversed the length of the beautiful weapon, drifting up its blade, past the guard, up the arm, to the face –

"Welcome," Souta the Cunning said, "to the soirée."


	26. Chapter XXVI

Mengde attacks with Surprise Villain. Mengde's Surprise Villain crits you for 9,030. All tiles chun. One million points. Coherency spelled backwards is incoherent. Chapter XXVI.

* * *

Reno let his back go completely slack and began to fall backwards, getting his head away from the blade pointed at it. At the same time, he kicked his legs out from under him to free himself from the kneeling position and tried to plant his feet firmly in Souta's groin. 

The old man was having none of that. Right hand still gripping the Kikuichi-monji, he stepped out of range, then grabbed Reno's ankle with his left hand and heaved.

Cursing with more surprise than fear, Reno had a second of clarity before Souta swung him into a full-on collision with the statue of Seiryū. The impact sent waves of pain screaming through Reno's body, and he could have sworn that he heard the jade crack with the force of his impact.

Almost contemptuously, Souta let go of Reno's ankle and let the Turk fall to the floor with a dull _thud_. "Now you just lie there, Mr. Reno, while I attend to your friends."

Throbbing so badly that he couldn't move, Reno squinted and now managed to make out the prone forms of Rude and Makoto. Souta had taken them out from behind when Reno had rushed to Yuffie's side.

Now the old man tossed Rude and Makoto unceremoniously onto the floor next to Yuffie and disappeared into the side hallway of the temple for a moment. He returned, dragging Rei and Jobs behind him.

"Holy shit," Reno gasped, the effort of speaking sending pain shooting up and down his ribs.

"That's what _I_ said," Yuffie growled, still worrying at her ropes.

His face a study in lethal seriousness, Souta dumped Rei and Jobs next to Rude and Makoto. "I think it time that everyone woke up." Crouching down, he pressed his thumbs to what seemed to be significant pressure points on the four prone figures, and one by one they regained consciousness.

"What the hell happened?" Rude asked, rubbing at his neck, before he came fully awake and started violently at the sight of Souta. "What are you doing here?"

"He's the one," Reno wheezed, clutching at his side. "He's the guy who's been behind all this."

Makoto, deprived of his _jian_, stared in abject shock. "You're serious? Grandpa Souta, is he serious?"

Souta's boot lanced out and took Makoto between the eyes, bashing the young man down onto the floor. "Wake up, you fool. I'm not some paternal grandfather figure. Focus on the moment and who I am _now_, not who I _was_."

And with that, Souta began to change.

Spirit energy raced up and down his body, illuminating the entire temple in flickering blue-green light. As the six of them watched, Souta the Cunning was transformed. His face smoothed and hardened, his frame straightened, black hair exploded from his head and cascaded down to his shoulders. Poisonously beautiful features came into sharp focus, and what had been dull brown eyes shifted and became vivid blue.

"What the hell are you?" Reno demanded. "How the hell is this possible?"

"I am the last living master of Shiranui-ryu. It is the ultimate kenjutsu, and not simply because it lets you kill with the highest efficiency. It has the power to preserve the body by letting the body rot. It saves your strength by sapping it. Call it placing a down payment with the Planet on your life-essence, with a virtually unlimited return." He looked at Makoto, who had forced himself up off of the floor, clutching his bleeding nose. "That is why spirit energy is so destructive. If you make a withdrawal from the Planet, the Planet wants a return – from those you use the energy against… or from you."

"It really was you all the time," Jobs growled, getting unsteadily to his feet. "You were dropping subtle hints the entire time. When I asked you how you knew about Rude being the mole in the organization, you said that you would have been a fool not to use your eyes and ears – but you meant that _literally_."

Souta shot him a bored look. "Of course I did. I never took you to the police, either. Or perhaps you neglected to mention to your new allies that you did not remember precisely how you came to escape incarceration?"

Reno skewered Jobs with a glare. "Tell me he's kidding."

Looking mortified, Jobs replied, "He's not. When I came to after you knocked me unconscious the first time, I was back at my apartment, and there was a recording from my employer saying that he'd arranged for the police to conveniently misplace me."

"This has to be a trick," Rei groaned, also getting to her feet. "How could you hide this from Makoto and me, Grandpa? We've lived with you for more than half our lives. How can you be this horrible, evil person that you've presented us with?"

Souta shook his head at her. "You're perfectly suited to be a geisha, Rei. Beautiful, talented, and airheaded."

Lurching to his feet, Makoto balled his hands into fists and growled at the now-young man. "Don't insult her. She's as good as your _daughter_."

"But stupidity is the only explanation for this gross misinterpretation of my position," Souta replied callously. "After all, whether or not I am evil is just a matter of… _perspective_."

* * *

Karsk replayed the tape in his mind even as Arcturus drove him, David, and Mengsk towards the shrine to Seiryū at top speed. 

It had shown Souta's car pull over to the curb, and Souta, Jobs, and Rei had all gotten out. From the looks of things, Souta had convinced Jobs and Rei to get out of the vehicle – perhaps he'd told them that it was going to blow up, or something.

At first Karsk had thought the camera was having technical difficulties, because Souta literally blurred for a moment, and in the next, Jobs and Rei were crumpling to the ground, unconscious. When Mern had slowed the recording, however, it was clear that Souta had moved in at lightning speed and executed what was known as a _chi_ block on both his passengers.

Then the car had turned around and began to drive in the direction of the temple to Seiryū, showing up on monitors there a quarter hour later.

"How much longer?" Karsk asked.

"Seven to eight and a half minutes," Arcturus replied promptly. "Assuming that we don't get traffic."

The Sub-General smiled thinly. "Of course. Hurry."

* * *

"You're trying to overthrow the government and kill all of us off at the same time," Reno snapped at Souta. "I'd say that qualifies as evil." 

"Black and white are both extreme shades of grey," Souta replied. "Haven't you killed people in the past, Mr. Reno, because they went against your company? You've killed in cold blood, haven't you? What differentiates you from me?"

"I do my job. You try to take over a country. I'd say there's a damn distinct difference."

"Are you really trying to take over Wutai?" Yuffie demanded. "What's your stake in this, Souta? A guy like you doesn't want to rule, he wants to sit behind the scenes and make things happen. Bureaucracy would just get in your way. You gotta be working for someone. There has to be a figurehead."

"So the black sheep of the family Kisaragi shows some intelligence," the strategist snorted. "Your timing could be better, though."

"Shut up and answer my question!"

Blowing out a bereaved sigh, Souta shouldered the Kikuichi-monji. "If you want to know so badly. I work for myself, Lady Kisaragi. Financially, I am one of the five richest men on the face of the Planet. My wealth springs from having rebuilt Wutai from the devastation dealt to it by the Shin-Ra. And why was I prepared to help? I had foreseen the outcome, as dictated by Shiranui-ryu." Souta raised his left hand and clenched it into a fist. "Adaptation, evolution. _Change_. A system that does not change will stagnate and crystallize, thus becoming brittle and easy to shatter. An organism that does not change will reproduce only identical copies of itself, and a single pathogen could wipe all of it out. Wutai had become stagnant and crystallized, and needed to be subjected to the hammer of the Shin-Ra to change."

"Are you talking about the idea of natural selection on an unprecedented scale?" Jobs asked, eyes wide with disbelief.

"I am talking about the propagation of active systems, Mr. Jobs," Souta hissed. "An active system, namely, is a system capable of extending its existence, living or dead. An active system is immortal, but capable of becoming inactive and thus vulnerable. You can call a human being an active system so long as it is capable of reproduction, as it then passes its genetic legacy onto its offspring. Once the human ceases to be capable of reproduction, it is an inactive system and should be discarded."

Reno balked. "That's batshit crazy. Who's gonna raise the kid?"

Unflustered, Souta continued. "Some inactive systems remain to be fed upon by active systems. An example would be the child learning ideological truths from the parent, but this is an example of the human _mind's _active system propagating itself through the child. The ideal is another method of propagation of the self, another way the system can persist."

"So you're saying all we exist to do is to extend ourselves – our systems?" Makoto asked.

"That is all anything exists to do. Information is viral, and moves quickly to quickly from one host to the next. Whenever you read a fictional novel, think closely on it. The information presented there is every bit as real as the information presented in a newspaper; it is simply real as pertains to a different system, namely the author's. Art, music, writing, all have sprung from the desire of the human system to extend itself."

"So how does this idea of yours relate to you taking over the government?" Rude demanded.

"Pay closer attention and you should be able to deduce it, Mr. Rude," Souta deadpanned. "Just as the author attempts to communicate a message with his book, so do I attempt to communicate a message, an ideal, to people who go through this. I am not looking to control the government, but rather collapse it entirely."

"You're doing this to create a state of anarchy," Reno said. It was not a question.

"Of course. I have already found a means of carrying on my system almost indefinitely, but I know that at one point I will cease using it. While I still do, I feel it is my duty to ensure my system's safety later on. If the government is weak, the chances that my system will be permanently halted increase, as it is forced to live within the standards set by the government's system. Thus, instead of seeking to improve my own system, a futile effort, I seek to improve the government's."

"You don't improve something by destroying it."

"Destruction is the inverse function of creation. After all the citizens rise up against the government, there will be complete chaos, not anarchy. Anarchy comes afterwards. It is free, voluntary order, not the absence of it. When the people of this city learn to unify themselves and overcome their differences in systems, they will recognize that they are not so different from those that they would profess to hate."

Reno snarled at him. "You're trying to discourage racism, but you're doing it by encouraging it with these riots? How the hell does that help?"

"It is a proven law of physics that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. The violent fostering of isolationism and racism will be reacted against with an equally violent discouragement of isolationism and racism, in all those who realize that they must bind the propagation of their systems to a cause."

"I smell bullshit."

Souta shrugged. "I've had quite a long time to consider this. Don't you remember the war, Mr. Reno?"

"Yeah."

"Anti-Wutainese sentiment was at an all-time high as the war began, and was then at an all-time low by the time the war ended. Our defeat was swift, but it still more than enough time for all of you to reverse your attitudes regarding us. Now you do not discriminate against us, but we discriminate against _you_. It is all reactionary."

"Answer me this, then," Jobs said. "With your talk of systems and reactionary forces, do you think the world is simply some equation that you can solve? People are not so simple!"

"Simply put, anything can be converted into an equation, and vice versa. If you give me something, I can tell you what sort of system it propagates, and whose system it belongs to. We all share an equal universe."

"I don't think so," Reno growled, hauling himself to his feet despite the pain it caused him. "You're talking about spreading your personal system through your ideals. What about my personal system, Souta? What if all I want to do with my personal system is to have a few kids with Yuffie? It'll get overridden something fierce if your system keeps screwing with Wutai's."

Souta smiled thinly. "_This_ is where the idea of mass-scale natural selection enters. To put it simply, some systems are intrinsically better than others. No system is permanent. I have not only had physical extrapolation of my system through children I had long ago, I have also imprinted my ideals on all of you, on Wutai. What have you left, Reno? Companionship and affection with those you call friends? Your system will persist in some small way in their minds, but that is entirely dependent upon the existence of their systems, whereas mine is ingrained into a multitude. If we were both to die, my system would ultimately branch out much farther than yours."

"Try again, Souta," Makoto spat. "Unless you were asleep, Reno made a speech to the Wutainese Council, and by extension everyone in Wutai – perhaps even people on the Central and Western continents. He's been in the headlines for days now. His message of unity has been propagated throughout thousands of these 'systems' that you qualify, much better than yours has."

"As they say, 'talk is cheap.' He has imparted his ideals, but how thoroughly? I will have adaptive, voluntary order, without discrimination, because I believe it is the only way to survive. I will enforce it by forcing the systems of others, and of this city, to react to it. An ideal that they think they have internalized will stay with them much better than one that is forced upon them."

Jobs frowned. "Though I hate to say it, your ideal – there's the word again – is fascinating. It's _viral_. You're talking about your ideal versus Reno's like they're viruses, and it's what they really are. The more virulent the disease, the more the patient is pushed to fight it off. Weaker viruses are fought off, just like Reno's weaker viral information gets fought off. Stronger viruses stay and dominate the host, just like your stronger information that the host _thinks_ he's internalized stays and dominates the way the host functions."

"Correct," Souta said. "I call it metabiological warfare. There is a saying from one of your old military strategists: 'Wherefore the injury we do to a man should be of a sort to leave no fear of reprisals.' If I infect someone with my ideal to override their system and replace it with my own, my ideal must be more virulent than those that they possess. This is what happens with religions and zealots that follow leaders. They no longer value their own lives, because their systems become extensions of the leader's system. In effect, I will be the ruler of a rulerless government, a no-life king, with an infinite amount of subjects that are mine and me as well."

"Warfare with ideals," Makoto murmured. "Only Souta the Cunning could come up with something like this."

That elicited a small, measured smile from Souta. "Of course, returning to the original question, away from this tangent, I am only evil if you oppose me. Those who do not wish to have their own system, those who wish to cut themselves off from the pressure of having to decide how to propagate it, can come to me and see me as a savior. All of you, so individual, unwilling to conform or change, see me as evil."

"Change isn't inherently good," Rei argued. "It brings all sorts."

"Change is neither good nor evil; it merely brings about one or the other through the destruction of one system and the propagation of another. All of you find Wutai's current system stable and do not want it gone, so you find my proposed system to overwrite yours with evil. What you see as evil in me is the threat of my system's propagation overtaking yours and snuffing yours out. I would be a savior to you if you _wanted_ this to happen; instead, you want to keep your own system and thus you are the enemy."

"And what happens after you've gone and done all this?" Yuffie asked. "You gonna just saunter off? Leave everything to take care of itself?"

Souta shook his head at her as a teacher would a troublesome student. "Systems are not only in existence here. There are always the Central and Eastern continents."

Reno felt a knife start twisting in his gut. "You'd travel out and topple governments just the same way you're trying to topple Wutai's? All in the name of propagating your viral ideals and keeping your system alive?"

"The natural urge of the living creature, the living system, is to remain alive. Whether you die by violent action or by stagnation, death will eventually come. Therefore it behooves the living system to propagate itself as much as possible, as far as possible, as long as it can before death takes it. Once my system has reached the limits of what this world can offer, my subjects can take to the stars as a united people and search out other planets to spread it to."

Jobs shook his head. "The ultimate anarchist. But _why_? Why do you think that anarchy is such a good system?"

"All imposed order is imposition upon systems. Only free, voluntary order, taken upon themselves by the systems, will make a difference. Ultimate freedom to a system is in this case represented by the quality of being undying. The system will find itself propagated in countless others who believe the same thing, and so if the system should find some part of itself terminated, its fellows will carry that part of it that has died."

Reno looked around at the people gathered around him. He took a deep breath and finally said, "Well. Not that this isn't fascinating and everything, but we really don't have the _time_, you know. What with the government coming around down our ears and everything." Leveling a finger at Souta, Reno declared, "I dunno if I buy your whole story about viral ideals and whatnot, but lemme share two of mine with you. One: a guy's ideals are his own business. You believe what you want, and screw anyone who says otherwise. Which leads nicely to number two."

Cracking his knuckles, the redhead stepped up to Souta, ignoring the Kikuichi-monji. "Number two is pretty simple. If anyone decides to believe anything that contradicts number one, I beat the shit out of them."

Souta's eyes narrowed, and he smiled thinly at Reno. "Hypocrite."

Reno drew back and lunged.


	27. Chapter XXVII

Nothing much to say except LET THE ASSWHOOPING COMMENCE!

Chapter XXVII woo.

* * *

Reno's right cross hit air as Souta somersaulted backwards, foot coming up and taking the redhead beneath the chin halfway through the maneuver. At the same moment, Makoto and Jobs were scrambling to their feet, the Shinsengumi leader scanning the darkness of the temple desperately for the _jian_ that he'd dropped. Rude was bringing up Reno's rear, umbrella ready, so when Reno stumbled back from the uppercut kick he tumbled full-tilt into Rude. 

Yuffie was still on the floor, squirming against her ropes and cursing loudly, while Rei tried to get her to hold still so she could undo the knots.

_Screw this_, Reno thought as he took the opportunity of his stumble to grab his cane, which he'd dropped. A quick rap of the cane against the floor broke its hollow shaft and Reno's prod slid out smoothly, primed and ready.

The moment he looked up, he saw Souta bringing the flaming Kikuichi-monji around in a grand arc in front of him. "Shiranui-ryu – Gōtsui Meisen!"

"DUCK!" Reno screamed at Rude. The bald Turk dropped just in time to avoid the blue thunderbolt, which impacted against the statue of Seiryū and sent exploded jade flying everywhere.

Souta didn't let up, firing off three more Thundering Hammer Howl Strikes in a second, blowing holes in the floor as Reno and Rude rolled out of the way.

A scraping sound announced Makoto's retrieval of his _jian_ from across the temple, and he summoned up his own spirit energy to let fly a Gōtsui Meisen at Souta. The Shiranui-ryu master responded in kind, and the two flaming blue projectiles met –

White-blue light flared up for a moment, drowning out the jade glow of the Seiryū statue, as Makoto's Gōtsui Meisen was blown apart by Souta's. Makoto took his enemy's shot square in the center of his chest and was blown off of his feet and hurled into a wall, but he recovered quickly enough. Apparently his own Howl Strike had been enough to kill off most of the energy of Souta's.

Souta whirled, ignoring Makoto for the moment, as he heard the distinctive _click_ of spring-loaded mechanisms firing, shooting a pistol into each of Jobs' hands from his sleeves as he splayed his arms out. Immediately he took a bead on Souta and opened up, rapid-fire, slowly backing up at the same time to increase his distance.

Reno looked at Rude and jerked his head at Jobs; Rude gave a quick thumbs-up and sprinted towards the ex-Turk while Reno moved to intercept Souta as he charged.

And charge he did. The Shiranui-ryu master streaked forward like a cruise missile, leaping ten feet in the air over Jobs' stream of bullets, Kikuichi-monji cocked to bring down and split the man from shoulder to groin. Reno also leaped, managing to grab hold of one of Souta's ankles for a moment, but he lost his grip as Souta violently twisted in mid-air, going into a complete revolution before landing just to the right of Jobs and attacking.

Rude one-handedly swept the thrust aside with his umbrella and tried an old favorite as a follow-up: the left hook. His gloved fist stopped inches from Souta's face, hovering as Rude strained against an invisible force.

Then the spirit energy around Souta flared up to twice its original luminosity and both Rude and Jobs were blown off their feet to land roughly several meters away. At the same moment that Rude had blocked Souta's thrust, Makoto had fired off four Gōtsui Meisen strikes, and they now crashed square into Souta's back.

Now Souta shone like a beacon, almost blindingly, and Makoto's projectiles didn't just dissipate: they _rebounded_.

Reno swore and dropped back to the floor as one of the Howl Strikes completely reversed direction after hitting Souta's aura. It screamed over Reno's head before hitting a wall and leaving a generous crater.

"STOP USING THOSE DAMN BLUE BOLTS!" Reno screamed at Makoto. "THEY'RE ABOUT AS EFFECTIVE AS BAD LANGUAGE!"

The Shinsengumi leader didn't respond, because he was too busy being attacked by Souta, who had gone into another backwards somersault after reflecting the Howl Strikes. It was a huge parabolic arc that took him back to the front of the temple where Makoto was standing, penetrating the young man's zone just as he was getting his defenses up.

Knowing he'd never make it in time, Reno scrambled to his feet and charged after Souta. The Shiranui-ryu master landed in a crouch in front of Makoto, who had taken a peculiar stance. All his weight was on his right foot, and he was doing what Reno chose to call the vertical splits – his left foot was high in the air, leg straight, so that his torso stuck out to his right and his legs formed a straight line. Looking closer, Reno could discern through the chaotic flickering of spirit energy that Makoto was pressing the broad side of his _jian_ up against his left foot.

"SEIRYŪ SŌSEI!"

As though his stance hadn't been demanding enough already, Makoto now snapped his left leg back as far as it would go, disengaging the _jian_ from his foot and bringing it down, aflame with spirit energy, at high speed towards Souta's head.

All this happened in about three-quarters of a second. Reno recognized the technique, though he'd never seen it before. It had been what had made such a great splattering sound when Makoto had used it on the Shattered Hand leader. Judging from how much force seemed to be behind the _jian_, Reno figured that if the strike connected, it would send Souta's brain shooting out his ears.

Souta apparently didn't truck with the notion of saving succession techniques for the final standoff, though. In one moment, Makoto was still on his right foot, his _jian_ arcing down towards Souta's head, and in the next –

"OUGI: MUGENSEI!"

– he was flying, blood streaming from multiple wounds in his chest and abdomen, and the _jian_ had been slammed out of its Seiryū Sōsei to be sent clattering to the floor.

_What the hell_?

Reno almost faltered as he charged Souta. He'd never seen anybody strike that fast in rapid succession, not even Sephiroth in his ultimate body.

Come to think of it, he couldn't even recall what the hell had happened. Souta had struck so quickly that there was no way for Reno to know how the technique was carried out or how to defend against it.

_Oh, well. I've gotten out of worse situations. I think_.

Jobs opened up from behind Reno again, bullets whizzing past the charging redhead, aiming at Souta. Reno resolved to yell at Jobs about his field of fire once this was all over. For the time being, he tried not to hiss in surprise as Souta rolled out of the way of the first salvo, came up with his sword ready, and batted away the next five bullets like flies.

The opening was there, but Reno knew that he was too slow to exploit it, even moving at full speed – so he checked to make sure that his prod was still on autoshock, then hurled it at Souta.

Obviously, the Shiranui-ryu master saw it incoming and deflected it, but he didn't do it with his sword as Reno had hoped. Instead, he twirled the Kikuichi-monji in his palm so he held it in only his right hand, fingers wrapped around the blade just below the guard, and knocked the electrified prod out of the way with the wooden hilt.

The blade was now pointed straight down at the ground, and Souta was holding it at arm's length with only one hand, leaving his torso wide open for Reno's flying kick.

A split second before he hit, Reno belatedly remembered Souta's powerful aura that had driven back Rude and Jobs and reflected Makoto's Howl Strikes. A split second after, Reno was arcing through the air, pulling his legs in, in the hope that he wouldn't break anything during his landing.

During all this, Rei, to her credit, was working feverishly at the knots around Yuffie's wrists. However, she was a geisha, not a prostitute – she'd never been given the finer points of doing and undoing cinched knots. Yuffie, in the meanwhile, tried to get her to identify the kind of knot, so she could give her directions as to how it was untied.

Jobs started reloading, Rude rushed to Reno, and Reno dragged himself to his feet in time to see Souta rushing Makoto, who had managed to retrieve his sword but was barely standing.

Just as Souta's aura went down so he could get close enough to deliver the fatal blow, Makoto came alive, obviously having faked his wooziness. Moving with lethal alacrity despite the deep slash wounds in his chest, he crouched underneath Souta's decapitation strike, twisted his left leg around his back, pressed the _jian_ against the sole of his boot, and then let fly.

"SEIRYŪ SŌSEI!"

Makoto's _jian_ exploded out from behind him and took Souta completely by surprise. Its broad side crushed into his gut and completely overrode his momentum, sending him skidding back even as he desperately kept his feet.

With a grin, the Shinsengumi leader shouldered his _jian_ and grinned at Souta. "Liking the Water God's Nest Strike?"

Souta barked a laugh and spat. For half a moment Reno thought about noting that they _were_ in a temple, but he dismissed it quickly enough.

"A lucky blow, Makoto. And I would say that the Infinity Rush has acquainted itself rather more well with you than the Nest Strike has with me."

Makoto grimaced, and Reno took the opportunity to visually inspect the man's wounds more closely through the shimmering flames of spirit energy that surrounded him. They were deep, all right – blood was oozing out of all eight of them at a steady rate, and it obviously hurt for Makoto to breathe. If he hadn't been drawing on the power of the Planet he'd probably have been killed.

"Makoto!" Jobs yelled. "How does the Mugensei work?"

Looking closer, Reno noticed something odd about Makoto's wounds. Maybe it was just a trick of the light, but…

_No_. "He cut you up in a figure-eight!" Reno interrupted. "The infinity sign!"

Souta did not seem at all irritated by the interruption of the combat. "Yes, Makoto. Do tell them how the Mugensei works."

Makoto glared at the man and then said, "I can't. I haven't mastered the move."

"So you know the style, but not the succession technique?" Yuffie exclaimed from over by the statue of Seiryū where Rei was still struggling with the ropes. "What the hell, Makoto?"

"I couldn't grasp the diagrams," Makoto growled. "They were clearly designed to be conferred to a student by the master. As a novice teaching myself the style, I couldn't make heads or tails of the move."

Souta shrugged. "Natural selection at its finest. Two men specializing in the same field cannot both be masters. There is only one superior being, because by definition there is nobody that can approach him. He secures his position by killing off his rivals."

He sprang, catching Reno by surprise, though the Turk knew he should have expected the move. Jobs had just taken a bead on Souta's head when the Shiranui-ryu master moved on in the attack again, and the ex-Turk offered up a muttered curse at his companions not being able to distract the man for longer.

Knowing that Souta was moving to finish him off, Makoto struck out on the offensive as well, leaping into the air, spirit energy flaring up. "TENKEN CHUSEI NISHIKI!"

Reno knew a little old Wutainese, so he recognized the 'form two' tacked on to the end of the technique. _Number two_? Reno thought, bewildered for a moment. He'd heard Rei mention Tenken Chusei as the technique that had wiped out the bikers that had gone to attack Makoto at Souta's compound, but never that there was more than one version.

Instead of slamming his _jian_ into the ground and letting the energy explode out in energized seismic waves, Makoto struck from midair. His sword flashed and a surging, glowing wave of air roared out at Souta, a miniature sonic boom echoing through the temple with its passage.

Souta replied, unsurprisingly, in kind. "TENKEN CHUSEI SANSHIKI!"

The third stance of the Heavenly Sword Judgment Strike sent a counter-front of air against Makoto's strike, blowing it to glowing motes and storming on to catch the Shinsengumi leader flat-footed, just as Souta's Howl Strike had done.

"MAKOTO!" Reno roared as the young man toppled, aflame with Souta's energy and not his own, out of his midair perch and hit the floor, hard. The redhead was analyzing what he'd seen even as he moved to bat at the guttering flames in Makoto's clothes, confident that Rude would cover his back and that Jobs might actually land a shot. _So it's got three stances – surface-to-surface energy wave, air-to-surface, and surface-to-air. We were already having trouble attacking Souta on the ground, and now we know the air's not safe – and he has his aura on top of that. We're in deep shit_.

Slapping at the flames, Reno watched out of the corner of his eye as Souta swerved effortlessly out of the way of Jobs' gunfire, then slid around, deftly evading Rude's umbrella thrust.

"NIZU RYŪSEI!"

Souta whirled in what looked like a spinning kick with his right foot, an incredibly stupid move that left him wide open to Rude. He was too damn fast, though, and when he came full circle, the Kikuichi-monji was pressed up against the toe of his right boot.

The Two-Headed Dragon Rush, as Rude found out, hurt a lot. First the finely honed edge of the Kikuichi-monji bit deep into his shoulder, and the foot following it crushed it in and splintered bone. Rude's left arm went completely limp, and then Souta disengaged his sword with a swift kick to Rude's chest.

Reno managed to put out the flames in Makoto's jumpsuit, but the Shinsengumi leader was still down for the count. Grabbing his prod, the redheaded Turk stood just in time to see Souta drop in next to Rei and knock her out with one blow to her neck. She collapsed, senseless, half-loosened knots still between her fingers. Casting a glance at Rude, Reno saw his partner struggling to get up with only one functioning arm, the pain etched into his face.

Now Souta rushed Jobs, sword trailing behind him, looking intent on making a kill this time. Jobs knew it as well as any of them, and he emptied the clips of both pistols, trying to land a shot. The Kikuichi-monji flashed again and again, plucking bullets out of the air with disturbing ease as spirit energy flared and seethed.

Jobs' guns came up empty, and Souta grinned, moving in for the kill.

Jobs grinned, too. He let the guns fall, producing a mini-frag grenade from his sleeve, and let it fly.

At that point, Souta was only a meter and a half from him, so the explosion hit them both. Jobs was blown from his feet, scorched all up and down his front side, eyebrows burned off by the force of the explosion. If he had it badly, though, Souta had it many times worse. His aura flickered and died under the force of the explosive and he was slammed onto his back, natural orange flames running up and down the length of his robe.

Souta wasn't licked yet, though. As Reno came in for a side attack, the Shiranui-ryu master leapt to his feet, screaming with rage, robe burning in nine different places. He brutally bashed Reno's prod right out of his hand and transitioned into his succession technique. "MUGENSEI!"

_Just like I thought you would_.

Reno let down his guard, straightening out his right arm so his one-shot Derringer began to slide down his sleeve, propelled by its spring, into his hand.

Instantly, Souta accelerated into a wild blur and Reno felt his chest light up with pain beyond anything he could remember having felt. _Focus focus focus focus FOCUS_

Even as he skidded backwards from the force of eight simultaneous blows, Reno snapped his arm up, Derringer in hand, aimed it straight at Souta's head, and fired.

Souta screamed when he saw the gun and his aura lit back up. Reno's single bullet thudded into the field like it was a solid wall and dropped to the ground, its momentum spent. Contorting himself into a position just like the one Makoto had adopted against him, Souta screamed, "SEIRYŪ SŌSEI!"

Through the pain in his chest, Reno retained the presence of mind to pull his arms in to his head. The movement saved his life; the Kikuichi-monji broadsided him across his left forearm a second later, the shock snapping the bone clean in half and crushing his head into his right arm. Like a broken doll, Reno tipped over and fell.

_Checkmate, I guess_.

Rude was the only one of them left capable of fighting, and all he had was one arm and an umbrella. His explosives were back at his bike. They'd come to save Yuffie, after all, not blow the place to hell.

Furiously, Souta batted at his robe until the flames from Jobs' well-placed grenade finally went out. He stared balefully at Rude, who had managed to stand, left arm hanging limply at his side, his umbrella clutched in his right hand.

"Come on," Rude said.

Souta really lost it this time. He gave a bloodcurdling howl and rushed into a thrust at full speed, no strategy or feints at all, the Kikuichi-monji zeroing in on Rude's head.

Rude, his expression showing no sign of resignation or confidence, merely steadied his stance a bit.

As Souta's thrust penetrated Rude's zone, the bald Turk opened his umbrella, snapping it loose with his thumb. The canopy flew open and was pierced straight through by the Kikuichi-monji. Rude pivoted, whirling on the balls of his feet, jamming the blade up against the umbrella's shaft and support struts for the canopy, positioning himself behind Souta.

The Shiranui-ryu master tried to twist with him, but Rude angled his umbrella, keeping the Kikuichi-monji caught firmly. There was a loud splintering sound, the canopy dipped a bit, and then Rude's umbrella came apart under the blade, the shaft literally torn in half. Souta, his sword free, pivoted even faster to bring Rude back into sight –

He turned about-face just in time to run smack into Rude's vicious headbutt. It went straight through the aura that Souta hadn't had time to put up and took him between the eyes, sending him staggering backwards. Souta was not done, though, and he sliced up with the Kikuichi-monji, cutting Rude cleanly across his chest and sending him to the ground again.

_Now it really is checkmate_, Reno thought bitterly.

Bloodied, bruised, and burned, Souta stood triumphant, his senses recovered, staring coldly at his fallen foes.

"You fought well, but in the end, my system proves superior to yours. It is the way of nature; I will propagate myself and all of you will die. Do not take it personally."

The doors to the temple chose that moment to fling themselves open to reveal Karsk, Arcturus, Mengsk, and David, all holding assault rifles. They immediately drew beads on Souta, confirming that everyone else in the temple was down, and opened fire.

"**_MORE INTERLOPERS_**!" Souta dropped to the ground, the bullets flying over his head and thudding into the statue of Seiryū, and he thumbed something in his pocket.

Without warning, Reno's and Rude's bikes both exploded in great orange fireballs, spraying flaming shrapnel everywhere. The shockwave took all four ex-Shin-Ra soldiers down, but not before a flying handlebar took Karsk upside the back of his head. All four men hit the floor, knocked immediately unconscious.

"So much for the cavalry," Reno muttered. At least they'd gotten a chance to fight and hadn't just been blown up on the way here – it figured that Souta had rigged their bikes. All that was left was to wait for the end, and…

_Hey, knucklehead._

Reno blinked. _I must be losing a lot of blood. I'm hearing voices._

_It's you, you moron. What the hell are you doing, sitting there and waiting patiently to die? What is WRONG with you? Have you forgotten the promise you made to Yuffie? You're going to goddamned live through this if it KILLS you._

_That makes no sense_.

_No time for logic. Get up. Don't go quietly, make him regret ever messing with you or your girl. DO IT!_

Reno's head cleared and he grinned. _Why the hell not_?

Breathing heavily, Souta got to his feet and turned to see Reno, slowly, painstakingly working his way to his feet as well. A crimson figure eight was slashed into his chest, blood soaked the front of his zoot suit, his left forearm was crooked and he looked concussed.

And still he stood.

"It's over," Souta growled. "You've lost, Mr. Reno. Accept it."

"Screw you," Reno laughed, voice raspy. "I made a promise to Yuffie, Souta. I told her that if it came down to her or me taking a bullet, I said that I'd take the bullet – and live through it. 'Cause she'd be sad if I died, you know. So you can take your systems, and propagation, and natural selection, and _shove it_. I love Yuffie, and I'm not gonna break my promise to her."

A bitter smile graced Souta's lips. "Despite your inferiority, I admire a man willing to stand by his convictions to the end. Are you prepared to do that, Mr. Reno?"

"He doesn't have to."

Both Reno and Souta started, then snapped their heads around in the direction of the pronouncement.

"Reno's not gonna be standing by any convictions until his end, because he's not dying," Yuffie snarled. She stood upright, the ropes at her feet. "I'd say that that responsibility falls to _you_ tonight, Souta." She extended her hand, and in it she clearly grasped the Leviathan materia.

_Hot damn. She had it in her sleeve._

Souta's face went slack with utter shock, and Yuffie raised the materia and channeled her energies into it.

The thunder of a great wave sounded with crystal clarity, and the jade statue behind Yuffie twitched and then rose majestically to its full height, blazing jade eyes regarding its target.

"**PRESUME YOURSELF SUPERIOR TO NO MAN, MORTAL**," Seiryū roared, "**FOR THERE IS ALWAYS A GREATER BEING**."

Met with a being beyond his comprehension for the first time in his life, Souta the Cunning collapsed to his knees.

A moment later, Seiryū crushed him.


	28. Chapter XXVIII

Oh, and if you see Arnie, tell him… boogity-boogity-boo. He'll know what it means. Chapter XXVIII.

* * *

"**I DO DISLIKE THE INTERNAL COMPOSITION OF HUMANS**," Seiryū observed. "**IT SIMPLY GOES EVERYWHERE**." 

Reno smiled weakly at the water-god's statue. "Really? I wouldn't know." He studiously avoided looking at what was left of Souta the Cunning. Calling it a smear would drop it five notches on the scale of disgusting things.

Concern showing on her face, Yuffie ran to Reno and pulled him into a hug, careful of his left arm. "You worried me, you meanie."

"An' I suppose that it's my fault that you can't get yourself out of a bind, literally or figuratively," Reno snorted. "Don't bitch to me."

With a slightly impish look, Yuffie took him by the chin and clucked softly. "You seem like you're in a bad mood. Lemme help you with it."

Seiryū uncoiled his body and floated silently through the air to where Karsk, Arcturus, David, and Mengsk lay as Reno and Yuffie explored the confines of one another's mouths. The water-god peered at the humans and then brushed them each with a clawed finger.

Immediately, they all came awake, eyes snapping wide open. The four of them started coughing, Karsk's coughs wracking him violently until Arcturus pounded him on the back and helped him to his feet. "You okay, Sarge?"

"It feels like I have water in my lungs," Karsk hacked.

"**I NEVER SPECIALIZED IN HUMAN RECONSTRUCTION**," Seiryū rumbled. "**IF YOU'RE DISSATISFIED WITH YOUR NEW LUNGS OR SKULL, I CAN ALWAYS REMOVE THEM**."

Karsk stared at the statue with an expression of blank shock on his face. "Say _what_?"

Obviously, the water-god found the fact that Karsk could speak plainly to a living jade statue of a dragon intriguing, because he moved to inspect the Sub-General more closely. "**AN INTERESTING HUMAN. AT ANY RATE, THE FUMES FROM THOSE TWO VEHICLES' DETONATION HAD COMPLETELY COATED YOUR LUNGS AND THOSE OF YOUR COMPANIONS IN POLLUTANTS, AND YOU IN PARTICULAR HAD YOUR SKULL FRACTURED BY FLYING DEBRIS. I SIMPLY PERFORMED SOME REPAIRS**."

"In that case," Rude growled, "how about some _repairs_ over here?" He was back on his feet, clutching at his shoulder and trying not to look too pained.

Seiryū gave what passed for a smile – namely, baring all the statue's formidable teeth – and moved to Rude. "**QUITE A BIT TO DO HERE. I THINK I GRASP THE DESIGN WELL ENOUGH TO RESTORE IT, THOUGH**."

Rude gave him a confused look and was about to ask why he should be different from Karsk and the other ex-military elites. He cut himself off when Seiryū delicately handed him his umbrella, all the damage to it reversed.

"I was talking about my shoulder and my chest, but that works too," the Turk acceded, and took the umbrella in his good hand. "Thanks."

"**NATURALLY. YOU, YOUR PARTNER, THE YOUNG SHINSENGUMI LEADER, AND HIS GEISHA ARE NOT IN IMMEDIATE DANGER OF PASSING ON, SO I WILL LEAVE REPAIRS TO THE MORE NATURALLY INCLINED FORCES OF THE WORLD**."

"So Karsk and company get a get-out-of-jail-free card on their injuries and we don't?" Reno complained. "Lame."

Seiryū swiveled to face him. "**THE SUB-GENERAL AND HIS FRIENDS ARE LUCKY. THERE IS ALWAYS THE PROBABILITY THAT I COULD MAKE A MISTAKE REPAIRING YOUR PRIMITIVE LITTLE HUMANOID FORM AND SWAP YOUR HIP BONES WITH YOUR VERTEBRAE. ARE YOU WILLING TO TAKE THE CHANCE**?"

"I'm good."

With a regal nod, the dragon turned its impressive gaze on Yuffie. "**I AM PLEASED WITH YOU, KISARAGI YUFFIE. SOUTA THE CUNNING'S BLASPHEMY HAS BEEN RINGING UNPLEASANTLY IN MY EARS FOR SOME TIME, AND YOU HAVE DONE ME THE FAVOR OF LETTING ME EXPUNGE HIM**."

"Would you have shown up if I didn't have the materia?" Yuffie asked.

"**IF IT PLEASES YOU TO KNOW, NO. I CAN ONLY MANIFEST MYSELF IN THIS STATUE WHEN THERE IS A MATTER CONCERNING MY MATERIA – IT IS THE PURPOSE OF THIS FORM TO PROTECT IT FROM POSSIBLE FOES, AFTER ALL**."

"Well… cool. Happy to help."

"**IF YOU HAVE A REQUEST, KISARAGI YUFFIE, THAT IS WITHIN MY POWER TO GRANT, I WILL ALLOW IT IN RETURN FOR DOING MY CITY THIS FAVOR**."

A wide grin broke out on Yuffie's face. "I got an idea."

* * *

By the time that Seiryū was summoned and Souta the Cunning was crushed into something five notches above a smear on the scale of disgusting things, it was morning in Edge. 

Rufus Shin-Ra had a morning routine that he liked to call "the grind." Most people would have given their left foot to be rich enough to call a routine like Rufus's a "grind," but what were they going to do? He was the richest man on the planet, not them.

He would wake up, slide himself out from beneath satin sheets, and throw on a velvet robe over his silk nightwear. Rufus was quite selective about the materials used, and if someone so much as breathed the word velour he had them knifed. He had illogical prejudices, as rich people were inclined to, and called velour "false velvet." Rufus actually had no objection to velour, but if people thought he did then they wouldn't buy it for him if they hung on his every word at official functions. If they did buy it in ignorance of his supposed dislike of it, then they weren't paying enough attention. In this fashion he weeded out both attentive and inattentive sycophants – because who would buy a velour bedspread, or a bedspread of any sort, for a man unless they wanted to brown-nose? It had never happened so far, but Rufus liked to be prepared.

This was the general mentality he maintained in the morning until his first and only cup of coffee. After that, the building blocks in his head obediently straightened themselves out and he became the ruthless, deadly logical businessman who didn't care what sort of bedspread you bought him as long as he could sell it to someone else for twice what you paid for it.

After waking himself up, Rufus would usually partake of a shower, followed by the newspaper. On alternate days, a shower was preceded by a workout with his personal trainer. He had an image to maintain, after all, even if Shin-Ra was being phased out by the WRO.

On this particular morning, Rufus slid out from beneath satin sheets, threw on a velvet robe over his silk nightwear, and made for his first cup of coffee when his phone rang.

His _home_ phone.

Immediately he tried to go down a list of people that he'd given out his personal home phone number to, but his mind hadn't received its caffeinated booster shot yet, so all he succeeded in doing was planting the seeds for a headache.

_This had better be good_. Trying to wake himself up without the aid of that sweetest of drugs, Rufus crossed his bedroom to his phone. He closed his hand around it, feeling "the grind" begin to evaporate around his ears as he did so, and picked up.

"Rufus here."

"Hey, Boss. It's Reno."

"And what prompts your call at this hour?"

"Well, you remember the whole marriage thing. With Yuffie. You know."

Instantly, Rufus was awake. Being reminded of the "whole marriage thing" was like sitting down on a primed hypodermic needle full of undiluted caffeine. "Oh, _vaguely_. I don't suppose that one of the other lucky suitors won the game and now has to deal with her."

"Nope. I whooped some solid ass and now you're engaged."

Rufus blew out a long breath and then inhaled deeply. _Calm. Remember the steps_. "I don't suppose you have a way to get me out of this, Reno."

"I might."

"I hope you do. Because if you don't, and I end up having to marry Kisaragi to avoid an incident with Wutai, I'm going to personally reacquaint you with the Needle. Believe me when I say that it will not be pleasant."

"The Needle never was pleasant," Reno drawled. "In fact, I'd say as far as training experiences went, it was the worst thing I'd ever gone through at the time. But, luckily for me, we're gonna get this whole messy thing fixed up pronto."

"My relief is beyond comprehension," Rufus matched Reno's drawl. "Elucidate."

"Okay. I need you to go and fill your bathtub to about ankle level."

Rufus blinked. _What_?

"Say again, Reno?"

"You heard me right, Boss. Go and fill up your bathtub to about ankle level, then stand in it. I can't guarantee what'll happen next, but it'll be a step forward."

For a long moment, Rufus internally debated whether to actually go and fill his bathtub to ankle level and then _stand_ in it. Absolute absurdity. Just like Reno to suggest something so strange and then not expand upon any rhyme or reason.

_Oh, what the hell_. "All right. Give me a minute. If nothing happens I'll call you back."

Rufus hung up and shook his head at the phone, then walked into his bathroom. He closed the drain on the tub, a large and elegant black-marble affair that more resembled a hot tub than a bathtub. A minute after Rufus turned the faucet, it was full to ankle level. The young president invested that minute in procuring himself a cup of joe. No point in not getting his fix, after all.

Taking a measured sip of the stuff and savoring its black bitterness, Rufus shucked his slippers and stepped into the tub.

* * *

The Pagoda had weathered the massive gang revolt quite well, considering that the bikers had thrown themselves against it again and again while Souta was busy in the temple. Karsk's men had fought with remarkable efficiency – not even a single enemy had gained the entrance to the great building. Casualties were slight, while the courtyard was littered with the bodies of bikers and what was left of their rides. 

Wutai had been defended.

"You're sure this will work?" Godo asked, staring dubiously at the dragon hovering next to him. Seiryū had compressed the size of the statue to roughly human height, saying that he wanted to meet with Yuffie's father to carry out her and Reno's request. Only Godo could find the dragon's presence hard to believe when it was right in front of his face.

"**As sure as I was that the Great Wall would stand up to the Serpent's Tsunami**," Seiryū replied. His voice still thrummed with a peculiar, bold godlike quality, but was greatly reduced in volume with his size.

Makoto, temporarily patched up until they could get everyone to a hospital and a Cure materia, spoke up. "Wasn't that the tidal wave that destroyed over half of Wu-"

"**And here we go**."

There was a loud _pop_ as a quantity of air was shoved forcibly out of a large space, a _sploosh_, and those gathered in the room were abruptly confronted with Rufus Shin-Ra, still in a robe and bedclothes, with a cup of coffee in one hand, standing in a toilet.

The president frowned for a moment, looked at all of them, then at the toilet he was standing in. Then he shrugged, took a sip of coffee, and commented idly, "I hope this is a private bathroom."

* * *

"I apologize for the means used to get you here," Godo was saying to Rufus. "We would have asked Seiryū to manifest you in a sink or other liquid receptacle of proper size, but our running water was cut off in the battle." 

Rufus shrugged again and took another sip of coffee. "I'm not entirely awake enough yet to find myself shocked at any of the goings-on here. I have to say, though," and at this he looked at Reno, Yuffie, Rude, Makoto, Rei, and Karsk and his soldiers, "the lot of you look like you've been through hell and back."

Reno replied by way of a sheepish grin. "Well, most every part of me hurts, but I figure I'll survive. I know _he_ does."

A faux-innocent look passed over Seiryū's normally inscrutable dragon features. "**I've no idea what you're talking about. Now… Rufus Shin-Ra. Far be it from me to lecture you on the immense damage you and your company have caused the Planet in the past. I can tell that you are already penitent**."

Rufus' expression did not belie this.

"**Therefore, I will simply tell you this: in exchange for services rendered by Kisaragi Yuffie, I have granted her a request. She has made one that her lover, Reno, concurs with, and that I think is quite easily accomplished. To quote her, 'I'd really, really like it if you got rid of my whole matrimonial obligation to that scumbag Rufus**.'"

"Such affection," Rufus observed with a smirk.

"**There are two ways that we can go about doing this. One: I can kill you and thus void the contract**."

"I'd prefer option number two."

"**I thought as much. There is a little-known clause in the Code of Matrimony. As it was written in response to forging political alliances through marriage, however, it has a certain mercantile tone to it**."

Rufus took another sip of coffee. "I would say that this marriage definitely qualifies as one being carried out to forge a political alliance. If I can get out of it, I will."

"**In that case, I will quote the clause to you: 'Should the suitor of the lady in question be unwilling to carry out the marriage, and should he be foresworn to it, he may remove himself from the prospect of the marriage by surrendering to the lady's family a monetary sum equal to the value of the lady's dowry**.'"

The Shin-Ra president's tone was the epitome of calm. "Why would this clause not be particularly well-known?"

"**Because I, acting on my authority as Regent-Protector of sovereign Wutai, just wrote it in**."

"Our bureaucracy has always been deeply rooted in the spiritual," Godo explained. "Therefore, all minor and major deities that have ever been officially recognized by the government, in any incarnation, at some point in time, hold positions within our government according to their positions within the Celestial Bureaucracy."

"**I am also the Grand Minister of Irrigation and Waterworkings,**" Seiryū added.

A muscle in Rufus's jaw twitched. "Fascinating. So do inform me, what would be the monetary value of Yuffie's dowry?"

"**I looked into that. She cannot claim Wutai as her dowry, as you would be marrying her to supply aid to it. A shame, too; I estimate that having you pay Godo the GNP of Wutai for the current year would put a considerable dent in your fortune. I did, however, amend the wording of the marriage contract your name was put to, to state that when you married Yuffie you would be granted the position of Marquis. It has an annual salary of seven hundred and fifty thousand gil, plus government health benefits, pension, retirement bonuses, travel bonuses, et cetera**."

Rufus blinked, slowly, and speared Reno with a stare as he asked Seiryū, "The net value of the position would, then, be what?"

The redhead winced a bit when the water-god said, blandly, "**One million, three hundred thousand gil**."

"And I take it that you not only wrote in the position of Marquis as Yuffie's dowry just before you added the clause to the Code of Matrimony, but you also _invented_ the position today as well."

"**I didn't not invent it**."

"You just got gouged by a divine being, Mr. Shin-Ra," Karsk observed with a small glint of humor in his eye.

"**Naturally, we will require the sum delivered to our treasury, preferably in precious metals. Godo has also informed me that weaponry or medical supplies will serve**." The jade dragon slid a contract across the tatami to Rufus. "**Sign your name there and, assuming you keep your end of the bargain, the marriage contract will be annulled**."

Rufus held out a hand, in which Reno obligingly placed a pen. The redheaded Turk smiled weakly as he watched his boss wordlessly sign the contract and slide it back to Seiryū. "Between this, the bikes, Tseng's car, and all the other expenses we've racked up on your bill on this vacation, Rude and I are gonna be working for you for a long time, eh, Boss?"

"For the rest of your lives," Rufus deadpanned.

* * *

Tseng's cell rang. 

At the moment, he was sitting at his kitchen table, wrapped up in a flannel robe, methodically consuming a bowl of cereal. Most people could look at him and swear on their favorite holy tome that he was a bagels-for-breakfast kind of guy, but he liked cereal. Elena happened to like cereal, too, so she had no objections to staying at his place for a night. Or two.

Maybe they'd use her apartment tonight.

Tseng flipped his cell open. "Tseng here."

"So, Elena's let you put the chew-toy down," Reno laughed. "You must've been behaving well."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Tseng said.

"Well, when I told Rufus that I'd call you and have you arrange a ride for him, he saw fit to regale me with tales of your and Elena's sexual exploits." A pause. "He says that he actually said 'Hopefully they're not too exhausted from last night to pick up the phone.' I just modified it a bit."

Tseng frowned. "Perhaps you'd like to explain what Rufus is doing in _Wutai_."

"A water-god teleported him here so we could kill the deal on the whole marriage thing and now he wants to stay for a bit. He got gouged pretty bad, too."

_I choose not to question this chain of events_. It was still too early to start asking questions that would only receive dumb answers. "I'll arrange for a flight in. We'll come pick him up. What about you and Rude?"

"We're gonna stay on. We still have a couple days of leave left, after all."

"Great. We'll see you when we get there." Tseng hit END and put the phone back down on the table.

Several spoonfuls of cereal later, Elena emerged from the bathroom in a rolling cloud of fog, a towel wrapped none too modestly around her slender frame. "Who were you talking to?"

"Reno. Apparently Rufus got himself magically taken to Wutai to renegotiate his marriage with an ancient water-god and got himself screwed in the process. We're going to pick him up."

Elena didn't ask any stupid questions, either. She just bent down and gave Tseng a kiss. "I love this job."

Tseng thought on that for a second, wondering where the kidnappings and violence, not to mention getting tortured by insane silver-haired men, fit in with her affection for the work.

He let it go and pulled her into another kiss.


	29. Chapter XXIX

Good evening, readers. Or morning, afternoon… it's evening now, 'kay? Because I said it was.

Well, we're nearing the end of the big stretch here, huh? One more chapter to go after this one and BTILW will conclude at an even 30. Funny how that works out, right? Wrong – I totally planned it to have 30 chapters. Totally.

Not lying at all.

Also, for those of you who wish to follow me through the abyss (and stare not too long into it, lest it stare back into you), I'll be pimpi – er, _announcing_ my next little fanfiction project in Chapter XXX's autornote. Once more unto the breach, dear friends! Chapter XXIX.

* * *

Reno gazed out the window of his hospital bed, the daylight streaming through it in bright rays that cast his bed and attire into a white glow. After Seiryū had taken his leave – directly after gouging Rufus for all he could – Godo had seen them all taken to the hospital. 

The staff had all insisted they stay for today, so they could be kept under observation in case any anomalies showed up on the scans, but everything was going well so far. They'd fixed all of them up with some liberal application of Cure magic, and now Reno was coping with his visitor, the only member of their party who hadn't suffered so much as a scratch against Souta.

"Where does it hurt?" Yuffie clucked.

Affecting a pouting frown, Reno replied, "Here, here, and here," indicating his left arm, his stomach, and his left temple. None of them really hurt, but all of them had, like hell, for quite a while before he'd gotten patched up.

Rude and Makoto observed from beds across the room as Yuffie giggled and kissed the spots Reno indicated. "Feel better now?"

"Uh-huh," Reno sighed, settling a bit more into his bed.

"Disgust rises from deep within me," Makoto commented to Rude. "Do they _always_ behave like this?"

Rude shot the Shinsengumi leader a look that eloquently sent a _no-duh_ message. "You ought to see them when they're alone."

"But that would mean they weren't alone, wouldn't it?" Rei asked with a laugh, clear like crystal water, while she sat by Makoto's bedside. The bald Turk shrugged at this and resumed tapping his fingers against the handle of his umbrella, which leaned against his bed.

Karsk also chuckled from where he lay in the bed adjacent to Reno's. He was the only one of the four ex-Shin-Ra to have suffered any injury that required inspection – being brained by a flying handlebar, regardless of whether or not the damage had been healed by a water-god, merited a trip to the hospital. Jobs was not in this room; he was still in intensive care. His frag grenade had probably crippled Souta enough for them to win the day if Yuffie hadn't been able to summon Seiryū and had simply had to fight him, but it had also hurt the ex-Turk badly.

"Do you wanna watch some tee-vee?" Yuffie asked Reno playfully.

"Uh-huh. But I'm just too tired to reach the remote…"

Makoto ungraciously blew a raspberry. "Watching you two is making me physically ill. Stop playing grab-ass and behave for once, would you?"

Quickly interceding, Rei explained, "Makoto's still grumpy from getting his poor little ass handed to him so thoroughly. You'll have to forgive him."

Nobody laughed at that. Souta's betrayal still weighed heavily on all of them. There was a funeral scheduled for the end of the week, but it was something that none of them looked forward to.

Wordlessly, Yuffie grabbed the remote and flipped on the television in the room, turning up its volume to smother the silence that had sprang up.

"…Godo has officially declared former Shin-Ra commander, Sub-General Karsk, and all of his men to be a governmentally sanctioned and funded national security unit, hereafter to be known as the Wusheng. Lord Godo had this to say about the appointment…"

"The sly old man back-dated the papers of approval to the day before yesterday," Karsk interjected, loudly enough to be heard over the television. "Our entire operation, therefore, was _always_ government-approved – it just wasn't government-approved at the time it was carried out."

Reno cocked an eyebrow. "Isn't back-dating stuff like that illegal?"

"There's a new provision for it," Makoto replied dryly.

"Let me guess. Seiryū?"

"According to Kosuke, Seiryū wrote it into the national constitution before proceeding to set your boss up."

"It's a good thing we don't get more visits from water-gods," Karsk said. "If we let him, Seiryū would probably start running the country all by himself if he wanted to. For a divine being, he certainly has his prideful foibles."

"Careful, Karsk, you might mysteriously drown if you keep that up," Yuffie snorted.

"Talk about a theocracy," Rude murmured.

"No kidding," Reno agreed, stretching a bit. "I gotta say, partner, that I'm glad we live in a society where people are a little more down-to-earth."

The door chose that moment to bang open and make a terrific sound as it slammed its doorknob into the wall, making everyone half-jump out of their skin. When they saw who was coming in, Reno, Rude, and Yuffie all swore at the same time.

"Hey, kids!" Cid barked. "I was jes' in town and heard you was recently on the ass end of an asswhooping. Any truth?"

"God, kill me now," Yuffie breathed, then quickly added, "Not really."

"What are you _doing_ here, Highwind?" Reno demanded. "I thought you were over at the WRO headquarters."

The old pilot barked a harsh laugh. "So disappointed t'see me, red? I'm hurt, I really am. What I'm doin' here is actin' as ferry captain for some of these characters. They were real worried when they heard you got yer ass handed to ya by some old Wutainese guy."

Unsurprisingly, Rufus stepped through the door after Cid, but immediately following him were Tseng, Elena, and all the rest of AVALANCHE.

"Yuffie, dear," Reno whispered hoarsely. "I'm dying. See if you can chuck me out the window."

"You keep yer ass in _bed_," Barret roared at him. "I didn't travel however many goddamned miles this place is from Mideel so you could screw things up, Reno."

"Seconded," Tifa said brightly, taking Cloud by the hand and moving to Reno's bed. "How've you been? I hear you're quite the celebrity nowadays."

"_Nowadays_?" the redhead asked, feigning shock. "I been famous for a lot longer than just recently, honey. You know you were crushing on me years before you met Spikey here."

"Nice to see you too, Reno," Cloud said with a quiet smile. "I think he's doing pretty well, Tifa."

"And who are your fellow bedridden companions?" Red XIII asked after he affectionately licked Yuffie's hand. "I think they bear introduction."

Rude took the opportunity. "Guy next to me is Makoto and his girlfriend's Rei. Next to Reno is Sub-General Karsk."

"Priv'ledged," Cid said as he shook their hands in turn. "Say, Karsk, don't I know you from somewhere?"

"Assuming that you're the Cid Highwind that I used to hear about, you might know me from the briefing I gave the hundred and eighty-first air corps unit during the war. If I recall correctly, you were the lead pilot of that particularly notorious squadron."

"Hot damn, that was a long time ago," the old pilot laughed. "But it's good to see you again, Sub-General. What the hell ever happened to ya? Just as well you stayed here. I figure we probably woulda done you in if you'd kept working for Shin-Ra."

"Hey, Vincent!" Yuffie shouted from Reno's bedside. "Say something, why don't ya, you big jerk!"

Reno looked at the red-coated ex-Turk and waved languorously. "Nice to see you, Valentine. Hope Cid didn't have to fly all over the place to find your ass."

"He was easy enough to locate," Reeve laughed genially. "Just as we were about to depart to look for him and pick up everyone else, he showed up at the WRO headquarters asking for a ride."

Vincent raised his right hand in a mock salute to Reno and Rude, then turned and swept out of the room.

"The nerve of that guy," Yuffie huffed. "I dunno how Paine put up with him."

"Probably the same way Tifa puts up with me," Cloud replied softly, "or how _you_ put up with Reno."

"It's a method lost to humankind, I think," Elena said with a small smile, giving Tseng's hand a squeeze. Rufus rolled his eyes and gave Reno a not-quite smile.

"When do y'all check out of this place?" Cid asked. "We're going out to dinner, on me, and everyone's invited!"

"We're leaving now," Reno immediately said. "Screw extended observation, I'm hungry. Rude?"

"Agreed," the bald Turk said, swinging himself out of bed. "Let's pick up our clothes and go."

* * *

A heart monitor beeped steadily in the white room, keeping a watchful electronic eye on the pulse of its patient. He lay alone in the room, having demanded quite vigorously his exclusive privacy and backed his request with a lot of money. 

"Getting too old for this, Deman?"

Jobs snorted as best he could when there was a drip in his nose. "Don't patronize me, Vincent. Immortals would do well not to remind mortals of their, to risk sounding like a broken record, mortality."

The red-cloaked gunman swept into the room and closed the door quietly behind him. "How long has it been, Deman? Decades?"

"Assuredly. Last I heard of you, you'd had a fatal accident while guarding Dr. Lucrecia Crescent."

"Lucrecia."

Jobs blinked. "What?"

"It's pronounced Lew-cret-sia. Not Lew-crie-cia."

Another half-snort. "Ridiculous. That's women for you, Vincent. Can't properly pronounce their own names." Instead of disagreeing, Vincent merely inclined his head and allowed the ghost of a smile to manifest on his face. Jobs looked bad, very bad; he was all burnt up and down his front side, most of his hair gone. The explosion had probably taken years off of his life, as well.

Jobs saw Vincent's gaze resting on him and said, "Don't cry for me, Vincent – not that killers can cry, as we well know, but you'll pardon the colloquialism. I'm not at my best right now."

"Of course." There was a long silence as the two of them dredged up recollections of the few missions they'd gone on together and how good a team they'd been. "What do you intend to do now, Deman? From what you told me in the letter you sent me, you were going against your employer and might not make it through – and you swore that you'd retire if you did."

"I did, didn't I?" Jobs sighed. "And I suppose I also told you to hold me to that. Force me to retire even if you have to do it at gunpoint."

"You did."

"Well, then, I suppose there's not much left for us to say, is there? I have a house in Icicle Inn that I can retire to. I won't be a bother or threat to anyone up there."

Vincent delicately gave Jobs a pat on the shoulder, mindful of the fact that doing it too hard would hurt like hell for the man. "I'm glad to hear it. It's time you settled down, Deman. Perhaps you'll meet someone and have some children."

Managing a laugh, Jobs replied, "Unlikely, Vincent. After all the fighting I've been through, I very much doubt I'm shooting live rounds anymore. No, 'tis the life of a bachelor for Deman Jobs, and I suspect it always will be."

Swirling his cloak about him, Vincent opened the door to leave. "I thought so, too, once," he said, pausing in the doorway. "Then I found my ideal."

And he stepped out.

The ex-Turk looked up at the ceiling and chuckled. "His ideal, hmm?" Perhaps his privacy could make a bit of room in his brain-attic for a new ideal. A family, or at least good acquaintances. A name that he could keep, and not shed every time he saw someone he knew and relocated. A stable, happy life.

Looking forward to a brighter future at last, Deman Jobs sighed contentedly and resolved to be gone by the next morning.

* * *

Obviously, the Scarlet Monastery was out of the question, as what was left of it was being turned into a public garden, so unsalvageable was the building. Therefore the party elected to head to the Drunken Fisher King, to eat sushi and drink until the two jokes that Rude knew were stand-up-grade funny. 

They were all seated in a gigantic booth in the indoor part of the bar, and stories were being exchanged just as fast as the jug of saké at the table. Reno leaned into the leather as Yuffie made herself comfortable against his side, eating fish eggs and generally acting content.

"It's pretty amazing," she murmured at length.

Reno looked at her, the conversation of the rest of the group lost to him for the moment. "What is?"

"I can remember a time when I hated your guts, Reno. Thought you were a stuck-up asshole that made Cloud look genial. And now we're lovers, and our groups have all sort of come together into one big family." She looked up at him and ran her fingers along his jaw. "I wanna say it's ironic, but that's not really the right word."

"No, it's not," Reno agreed. "I think the word is 'good,' in this case. Let's face it, we're a hundred percent perfect for one another, and two-odd years ago you'd have happily put your boomerang-shuriken through my face. I like the way things have turned out." He motioned at the rest of the gathering. Even Vincent had come along, explaining that he'd stepped out to meet an old friend. Now the red-cloaked gunman was having a drinking contest with Rude, the two of them knocking back shot after shot without any visible effects.

"I think that one, you're right, and two, Rude's screwed," Yuffie sighed happily.

"Don't count on it, kiddo," Cid said. He was seated next to her, and was happily puffing away on a cigarette in clear violation of the no-smoking sign in the bar. When one of the waiters had come to try to get him to stop it, Cid had grinned at the young man, happily put the cigarette out all up and down the front of the waiter's uniform, and lit himself another. Needless to say, he hadn't been bothered again. "I know Valentine. Say whatever you want about him bein' different an' all that, but Rude's got a shot – no pun intended. Valentine can take gunshots to the chest, but he can't hold his liquor."

"And how would you know this?" Reno asked.

"I spiked the punch at a party about a year ago. You two weren't there. Valentine had a couple cups of it and was staggering around for the entire thing afterwards."

Reno laughed heartily at that image, made even funnier by the alcohol in his system. He decided to encourage the feeling by taking another shot. "Good stuff."

A serious expression overtaking her features, Yuffie abruptly said, "Reno, did you believe Souta?"

The redhead blinked. "Say wha?"

"All his stuff on systems. Propagating it, viral information, all that. I hate to say it, but a lot of it made sense to me, y'know. Like if I start singing a song, it could get stuck in your head. It's a pain in the ass, but it's just information, right? Well, didn't I technically give it to you, like a virus? Could Souta be right?"

Reno shrugged. "Honestly, babe, I'm no philosopher, no matter what the press says about me ever since that speech I made to the Council. I think Souta's ideas had merit, just like any idea has – except the stupid ones, but you know I don't count them. I been on crowd control enough times to know mob mentality, and it fits right in with what he said. You tell a mob to storm a government building, they'll probably damn well do it. On the other hand, if you tell them to go bake cookies, they'll damn well do that, too. You want to talk about virulent information, talk to a mob, I say.

"But in the end, and this is also from personal experience, a mob's just a bunch of people. When you smack someone across the face with your prod to break things up, you're smacking _someone_, not a part of a larger whole. Souta's plan probably could've worked if he'd been around to make sure it went off without a hitch. Collapse the government and make people have to work to achieve their own order, and they'll think they figured it out for themselves and never want to let go of it. It's mob mentality he was using, Yuffie. Problem is that he never accounted for the guy whose shit you ruin – the individual.

"If we're gonna follow Souta's metaphor of ideals being viruses, I say everyone's got a different immune system. Some of us fight off junk better than others – whether it's just genetic, or because we've fought it off before, or we just move too damn fast for it to ever really affect us. Some people fight off virulent ideals better than others, whether they were raised to, or because they've dealt with other virulent ideals in the past, or they're too caught up in their own lives to bother absorbing anything new. Some people whose immune systems just happened to be good enough – us – resisted Souta's virus, and invented the cure; namely, having a water-god turn him into squishy paste on the temple floor. I always liked home remedies."

"So you think people are more powerful than mobs?" Yuffie asked.

"Look at everyone at this table," Reno replied. Cloud and Makoto were locked in conversation, their hands weaving through the air, describing aerial maneuvers that they used in combat, while Tifa and Rei, seated next to their respective significant others, also conversed, probably on more feminine subjects. Red XIII and Cid were talking with Karsk, while Rude and Vincent stalwartly continued their drinking contest. Barret and Reeve were discussing oil prospecting and its advantages for the WRO, while Rufus, Tseng, and Elena were deep in conversation about consolidating Shin-Ra's resources for the big WRO transfer. "We got a lot of good people here. All of 'em would be more'n willing to fight Souta with us – but all of 'em would also be willing to help Souta if the government was actually corrupt. Ideals are powerful, alright, but they're only powerful because the people who have them give them that power. A mob just happens when you have a bunch of people with ideals. So, short version, yeah, individuals are more important than mobs, or even ideals themselves – 'cause everything starts with an individual, after all." His gaze unfocusing slightly as though looking at something far away, Reno added, "Souta didn't believe in the individual, just his systems. Look where he is now."

Yuffie grinned and pulled Reno's face to hers for a kiss. "Well, speaking from one individual to another, I have to say that knowing a guy like you really makes me lean towards your side of the argument."

They kissed again and called for another round of saké for the table.


	30. Chapter XXX

And we're here at the big finale, muchachos. (I can't believe Word didn't recognize that. It tried to give me "mustaches" instead. We all know it's spelled moustache.) Chapter XXX is here in all its resplendent glory, marking the end of one era and the beginning of another.

But before we commence festivities, I have some pimping… er. Announcing. I have some announcing to do. My next fanfiction project! It's already been decided, good readers, and though it pains me to say this, knowing the sadness it may cause some of you, it is not FFVII. It is instead based in the InuYasha anime. When you're done throwing rotten fruit at me, I'll recommence.

Good. I had an idea for the fiction a while ago and arranged an expedition into the wild, uncharted territory of InuYasha fandom to explore the possibilities. My crew and I were almost immediately chased out of that dense jungle by a veritable tribe of Mary Sues, as well as more feral packs of poor plotlines and butchered languages. Thus, we agreed to mount a second expedition, this time bearing good tidings for the jungle: a fanfiction. A _good_ fanfiction, if I and my beta readers dare say so ourselves.

It is called Incontrovertible, and weekly syndication starts Monday, October 16th – one week from today. Yes, I know I'm getting progressively lazier, but I'm also getting progressively busier, so the two balance themselves out (even though they really don't). InuYasha is really like the Star Wars of fanfiction: love or hate it, at least you've heard of it and maybe know a bit about it. With this in mind, I heartily invite all my readers to join me one week from the time of this update in the InuYasha section. O brave new world that has such people in't!

Now, without further ado, Chapter XXX. 'Till next fiction, readers.

* * *

Da Chao temple was being used for the ceremony, seeing as how Seiryū's temple was barely standing. Benches had been quickly set up along the length of the main hall of the temple to allow seating for attendees, and the statue of Da Chao loomed up above the congregation. 

Reno shifted uncomfortably in his suit. Yuffie had actually ironed the damn thing – which meant that she'd pulled out an iron, an ironing board, grabbed his suit, and handed the three articles to Reno, then threatened him with physical discomfort if he didn't do it. That was why his collar was stiff, his shoulders were squared by padding that wasn't crinkled, and he was actually wearing a tie. He really should have been wearing a tuxedo, but he didn't carry formal wear with him everywhere.

Yuffie, by contrast, was dressed quite handsomely: a black dress that closed in a choker at her neck and hugged her sinuously, stopping just above her knee. She'd actually worn heels, too, black ones, as well as stockings and black gloves. Her hair was done up so it cascaded about her face in delicate curling strands. Reno had commented in his usual drawling fashion that she looked like a high-class whore and had gotten a savage pinch for his trouble.

Rude was also dressed in his suit, looking much more stiff and formal than Reno ever could. For the sake of circumstances, he'd removed his sunglasses and all but one of his earrings, but his umbrella rested against his seat by his legs.

Rufus had somehow arranged for a formal black dress tux to be brought to him, and he looked quite dapper, while Tseng and Elena were attired in a black tuxedo and a lacy black gown, respectively. The rest of AVALANCHE were looking as formal as could be expected of them – which, excepting Cloud and Tifa, was not very formal at all, but they tried their best.

Godo wore an impressive black _kamishimo_ outfit with bloodred highlights. Karsk, seated nearby with Arcturus, who wore a suit, was dressed in a black version of his uniform, the single crimson slash across his torso matching the color of his epaulets. Makoto eschewed his Shinsengumi outfit for a suit, and Rei wore a black _kimono_ with gold embroidery.

After what Seiryū had done to the man, it was impossible to have an open-casket funeral for Souta. They settled on closed-casket, and a funeral in the eastern style. Makoto had suspected that Souta would not have wanted a Wutainese funeral.

The police finally got their lazy asses in gear _after_ the now-Wusheng had fought off the biker gang revolt. Arrests were swiftly made and forty-three out of forty-five gangs around the city had been completely dissolved by official order of the state. The two exceptions were the Shinsengumi, for obvious reasons, and the Shattered Hand, because it had been so horribly smashed that there were not enough bikers left alive there to constitute a gang.

When the police had investigated Souta's compound, they'd found that he'd prepared a will.

The abbot began to read it as the delegation slowly brought the casket up the aisle in the Da Chao temple. There wasn't much in there; sanitation teams had been told to scrape up what they could and burn it. Godo had ordered a team of craftsmen to fashion a wooden statue of Souta to be placed in the casket, as was the old tradition in case the body of a dead man was lost in battle and could not be recovered.

"I am not a simple man. Born in less-than-desirable circumstances, I quickly discovered that I had a voracious appetite for knowledge – and power. Accordingly, I studied the classics and applied myself to the acquisition of Furanui Kenjutsu at only age six. Twelve years later, I mastered Shiranui-ryu and joined the army.

"I heard the advent of great modern weapons being developed in the east by the Shin-Ra company long before we were foolish enough to undertake an offensive against them. I tried earnestly recommending the proliferation of military firearms to my superiors, and they refused, insisting that the _jian_ and the _dao_ would serve us admirably – even going so far as to neglect completely the existence of our _tachi_ and our _katana_, our _qiang _and our _gùn_. The fools were obsessed with the way of the modern sword.

"Accordingly, when the time came, I refused to lend them my powers. I let them burn in the fires of change; creation needs destruction to supply its fuel. I let the Shin-Ra apply their blunt force to achieve change where my methods failed; you must fold the steel more times for longer blades than shorter ones. From the ashes they created I rose anew, reborn, the phoenix – to give life to my city, to restore it.

"But the city's small mind, its grasping intellect, has grown impatient with the steady progress of change. It clings to its petty jealousies and prejudices, ardently refusing to acknowledge its total loss to foreigners. Let it therefore burn again – until all our authority and vestiges of it are expunged, to free us from our cursed traditions that have so long kept us backwards and perverse. I love Wutai too much to see it mocked as it wrestles with the chains it has wrapped itself in – so those chains must be cut, even if the act of doing so carves deep into the flesh.

"Let the flames of my new discovery, of anarchy, burn away all our weaponry, all our heritage, until nothing remains except the tattered and burned masses of _people_ – not Wutainese or foreigners, but merely _people_, who have lived through hell and have survived to propagate their systems, and our system as a whole. Wutai, whether in name or not, will persist into the ages through its death and rebirth. Structured order fails; natural order will always win in the end, and so it must be _imposed_ – a disgusting paradox indeed, but one that must be borne.

"I hold no delusions; my cause is noble to my own eye, but to those proponents of structured order it is an abomination. Unlike chaos, that laughable sister of anarchy's natural order, structured order is dangerous due to its very nature; it will mobilize and crush dissension with all its power until it is yanked up by the roots and purged. I can guarantee no success, and if structured order persists, as it has so many times throughout history, I will accordingly leave that invention of structured order: a will.

"To Lord Kisaragi Godo, I leave three-fourths of my fortune, the total value of which I estimate at two billion gil. You will have your financial aid for Wutai, regardless if your daughter marries or not – it is the least that I, who must subvert the state for my ideal, can do in the event of my failure.

"To Lady Kisaragi Yuffie, I leave the other one-fourth of my fortune. You are resourceful, and I do not doubt that you will find a way out of this marriage your father has imposed on you, even if you have to traverse Heaven and Earth to do it. I have never been a supporter of arranged marriage; natural chemistry always produces children with superior systems, as the environment in which they mature is much superior. Accordingly, take this, so that you and Mr. Reno might have some financial base for your relationship.

"To Shigeru Makoto, I leave the ancestral blade of Furanui Kenjutsu, the Kikuichi-monji. I gifted you with this sword many years ago when you first set out to master Shiranui-ryu, and though I am borrowing it for tonight, it is with every intention of returning it, should you survive the upheaval. To what end you employ its edge after receiving it is not my concern; now the sword is officially yours. You have my blessings.

"To Takahashi Rei, I leave the entirety of my holdings – my compound in Wutai, as well as my residence in Edge City and my estate near Icicle Inn. All these places are valued quite highly, and if you choose to sell one or more of them, it is doubtful that you will ever have to work again if you live prudently. As I assume that you will be living with Makoto, however, I advise you to keep the estate by Icicle Inn; it is a fine place for a vacation or honeymoon, and the view is magnificent.

"As a closing statement, I ask that this document be read in its entirety at whatever funeral you choose to give me. Furthermore, I _do_ request a funeral of some sort – a government cover-up of my death will not do. Barring my being able to put Wutai's backwards customs and traditions to the flaming sword of change, let my death serve as a potent example. Souta the Cunning, beloved and powerful strategist and hero of the people, benefactor of thousands and good-natured soul, being declared a villain will open their eyes at least a fraction. The road will still be long, but they will at the very least see immediately that our greatest enemy is not those who are different from us, but ourselves – in every sense of the word."

The abbot finished reading the will and handed it to an attendant. "Let us reflect silently upon the deceased for a moment and wish him our best."

Reno bowed his head and closed his eyes.

_I liked you, Souta. It's really an indication of how much when I'm _praying_ for you after you put a figure eight into my chest with your sword. I don't agree with your bullshit about systems and whatever, but you were doing what you thought was right. That's all anyone can do, I guess. Good luck_.

"We commend the body of our fallen compatriot to the earth, and his soul to the Great Wheel."

The abbot's attendants lowered the casket into a great groove only recently cut into the stone floor of the temple in front of Da Chao. The god stared down, brows furrowed and teeth bared, ready to smite the congregation with his terrible sword if they so much as sneezed impolitely.

Over Souta's grave, the attendants slid a large marble slab that fit with a _shunk_ into the groove. Upon it was an inscription:

**HERE LIES SOUTA THE CUNNING**

**WIELDER OF DESTRUCTION**

**HARBINGER OF CHANGE**

**HE WILL BE MISSED.**

_Not really_, thought Reno as he stared down at the words after the congregation began to disperse, the ceremony concluded. _You're gonna be a lot of things from now on, Souta, but you sure as hell aren't gonna be missed_.

"Let's go," Yuffie said to him.

"Yeah. Let's."

The two of them left the temple, the resounding knell of Souta the Cunning's ideals echoing hollowly in their wake.

* * *

The next day, the scene was a familiar one, though only in the sense that one might find an Impressionist painting of a subject familiar after seeing a Surrealist painting of the same. 

Reno – who was backstage, so to speak, waiting for his cue – and Rude were still in suits, and the AVALANCHE crew still looked fairly motley, but beyond that everything was changed. Yuffie was now in a golden gown that shimmered as light moved across it. Rufus wore his white tuxedo, in keeping with his usual tastes. Tseng wore a deep blue suit, while Elena sported a sky-blue gown. Godo was still in a _kamishimo_ outfit, but it was red and gold, a good sight more festive than his previous clothing. Karsk had donned his normal grey uniform for the occasion as well.

All of them sat in the square in front of the Pagoda. The pathway leading up to its steps had been converted into the aisle, flanked by the rows of benches holding the congregation. The same abbot from yesterday stood at the top of the stairs, called for a second time in as many days to perform a ceremony that was a weird mix of Wutainese and eastern custom. He looked fairly happy about it, though. This _was_ a happy occasion.

A bell sounded, and Makoto ascended the stairs up into the square. He was dressed in his most exquisite finery, a blue-and-white kimono that fit squarely over his powerful frame. It bore his name on the front, synonymous with _truth_; patterns of white flowers blooming against a blue sky curled across the silk and seemed to sway with his movements. At his side was the Kikuichi-monji, his birthright as decreed by Souta.

Nobly, Makoto walked down the aisle, passing through the congregation and eliciting excited whispers and murmurs. He arrived at the stairs up to the Pagoda and ascended all except the last, stopping and doing a quarter-turn to his right on the second to last stair, then riveting his gaze straight ahead and clasping his hands behind his back.

The bell sounded again, ringing out clearly through the air, and Reno knew it was his cue.

He smiled at Rei and took her by the arm, then helped her ascend the stairs into the public square. Gasps went up as she was revealed, and Makoto's gaze was jerked inexorably around to behold her, despite his best efforts otherwise. Instead of a thick, red-and-gold bridal gown, Rei wore a light, downy white wedding gown. It enfolded her in multiple layers of sparkling silk cloth, starting as transparent as air and no thicker than a millimeter, then gradually working its way down to less transparent but no more weighty fabric that hugged her body and modestly covered her from collarbone to ankles, leaving her shoulders and arms bare. No geisha would ever be caught dead wearing something this decidedly foreign, and that was precisely why Rei had chosen it: change. In her hands she held a bouquet of white roses, a sign of respect for Yuffie.

Reno escorted her down the aisle through the forest of whispers and up the stairs to stand across from Makoto, who was making a conscious effort to keep his jaw from dropping. Her amethyst eyes pierced her veil and gently caressed his sepia, conveying a whole gamut of thoughts and feelings in a single glance.

_That won't be the first look like that that they share_, Reno thought, none too satisfactorily.

He stepped down a stair and to one side, seeking out Yuffie's gaze in the audience and giving her a wink. _This'll be good_.

"As this ceremony is a new one to Wutai," the abbot announced, "we will not stand on it in its entirety, which I am informed is quite lengthy. We all know why we are in attendance – to marry this man, Shigeru Makoto, to this woman, Takahashi Rei. Accordingly, we have determined that the 'best man,' Mr. Reno, will make a _short_ –" and the abbot gave Reno a warning glance – "speech to begin."

Reno gave him a grin in return and spread his stance a bit. "Good morning, ladies and germs."

Silence.

"I'm dying up here," he drawled. "Anyway. Normally I'd be making this speech after the whole thing's been done up and signed in blood – ink, whatever – but I've heard from _reliable sources_ that the car they're driving away in with 'Just Married' on the back is actually an airship called the _Shera_, and their destination's a certain estate by Icicle Inn. So let's keep things _short_, eh?

"When I first met the groom, Makoto, I knew instantly he was up to no good. I was right, too – but he really turned around. Turned me around, too. In the short time I've known him, he's proved himself to be a good, honest man, and one tough sunuvabitch." Some members of the congregation colored or coughed nervously, though more informed parties smiled and took Reno in stride, just as Makoto and Rei did. "He also changed me, and for the better. When I got here I could've cared less what you all thought of foreigners. Don't tell anyone, but when he got stuck up about it, I got genuinely pissed about it for the first time – because, people, he reminded me of myself in a lot of ways. I wondered how someone like me could be drawn in by bigotry and irrational prejudices, and then figured by extension that he _couldn't _be like me, that he was just bullshitting me.

"It's way too easy, folks. I'd almost fallen into it, too. Nobody here's innocent. We all hate someone or something for no good reason, and that's to be expected. That's the human condition. If we got nothing to hate, we find something to hate amongst one another. Nothing we can do about it except try to be the best people we can, and to try to emulate examples of this behavior, like my friends Makoto and Rei here." Reno shifted a bit and pulled his hands from his pockets to gesture at the happy couple. "They're standing there not just 'cause they love one another, but because they each stood up and decided to make a difference in some aspect of their lives. They brought change, they didn't just wait for it.

"That's why I'm saying that if anyone deserves Makoto, it's Rei, and vice versa. They really are two of a kind, and birds of a feather oughta flock together. I know you all are thinking I'm being a terribly irreverent ess-oh-bee right now, so lemme be serious now." Turning to Makoto, Reno said, "Bud, you got my permission, and I'm sure you'll sleep easier for it – not that you'll be sleeping anytime soon." With a bow, the redhead concluded his speech and stepped down.

"Think I overdid it?" he whispered as he plopped himself down next to Yuffie.

"Don't you see the two of them? They're practically _glowing_. Your speech was very… _you_, and they loved it."

"I think they were the only ones," Reno chuckled quietly. "Oh, well. Another day, another speech."

He fell silent as the abbot got through asking if there was anyone in the audience who objected to the union. The Turk didn't miss the fact that Makoto's hand instinctively drifted to the hilt of the Kikuichi-monji in case someone actually _did_ speak up, and he smiled when he saw Rei lay her own hand on Makoto's to restrain him.

Nothing.

"In that case," the abbot announced, "I believe this is when I pronounce you husband and wife. In the tradition of our eastern neighbors, Makoto-_san_, you may kiss the bride."

Makoto's face lit up. With faintly trembling hands, he lifted the veil from Rei's face and drew her to him. She angled her face up to his and they embraced as their lips met in a brief, almost chaste kiss.

Applause thundered up from the congregation, and the newlyweds both started and stared out at the gathered audience, who all rose in admiration. Makoto's gaze moved to Reno, who gave him a signal: _kick it up_. The Shinsengumi leader nodded, almost imperceptibly, and kissed Rei again, fiercely, stiffening as she responded and snaked her arms up his back, the bouquet forgotten and half-crushed between them.

The abbot flushed and sheepishly stepped up his applause. Makoto and Rei disengaged, and Rei remembered the bouquet a moment later, retrieving it and recalling that Reno had told her to throw it to someone in the audience – whoever caught it next was to be married afterwards. A mischievous gleam flashed through her eyes, and she threw it to Yuffie, who laughed and stood up to catch it.

Cid leaped full-tilt from his chair, straight over Yuffie's head, and snatched the bouquet out of midair. He landed in a skid in front of them and whooped triumphantly. "INTERCEPTION!"

Dead silence followed for a moment, after which the applause resumed, though in a somewhat more scattered fashion. "Don't worry about it," Yuffie called to Rei as the geisha started and looked to be about to descend the stairs. "Poor old coot needs all the help he can get."

* * *

"I daresay we're all boarding the _Shera_," Rufus observed as the newlyweds made their way inside through the opened viewscreen of the bridge. "Cid can drop Makoto and Rei off at their estate by Icicle Inn by this evening, then see the rest of us back to Edge." 

"Rude and I still have a day left of leave…" Reno started.

Rufus turned and speared him with a stare. "You stay here another day, Reno, and all of these people's various gods will be manifesting to suck my accounts dry. No, I think we're leaving, _now_. You're lucky that the money that Souta fellow left to Yuffie covered your debt to me and left her with enough to dote on you for the rest of your life – because I certainly know that _I _won't be. I'll see you on board." He turned and moved aboard the _Shera_, suit billowing in the wind, Tseng and Elena following him.

"_I_ daresay he's cross with you," Godo observed humorously. "Still, I can't blame him. Were circumstances different, Reno, you would have deprived me of the financial aid that Wutai requires even after the biker gangs' demise, and you would owe _me_ a good deal of money as well. I believe you owe Souta more than can be accurately recounted."

Reno shrugged. "_Ifs _don't factor much in my calculations, Mr. Godo. It was good to have met you."

"And it was good to have met you, Mr. Reno. I will never consent to my daughter _marrying_ you, of course, but you can always have yourselves married without my permission. I'll only have to exile the two of you from Wutai for a year."

"How generous," Yuffie deadpanned. "We'll consider it, Pops." She gave him a hug, after which Reno shook his hand.

"Take care, both of you." That said, Godo turned about and headed back to the Pagoda.

As the rest of AVALANCHE tromped onboard the _Shera_, Reno moved to the figure standing apart from the rest of the onlookers and well-wishers. "So, Karsk. What're you gonna do?"

The Sub-General flashed him a smile. "I will stay on as commander-in-chief of the Wusheng. I promised the General, many years ago, that I would protect Wutai, and my men and I have finally been given the capacity to do that. How could I ever decline the post Lord Godo offered me?"

"Good luck, then," Reno said. "But if you ever get bored with the stiffs here, come to Edge. I'll buy you a drink."

Karsk nodded and extended his hand. "I'll keep that offer in mind, Mr. Reno. Best of luck to you in your future endeavors."

Reno took the proffered hand and gave it a firm shake. "Best of luck to you, too, Karsk. Be seeing you."

He released the man's hand and watched Sub-General Karsk follow Godo back towards the Pagoda.

Drawing up to the open bridge of the _Shera_, Reno beckoned Yuffie to join him, while Rude approached from inside. "Everyone's aboard and waiting for you two."

"You said your goodbyes, partner?"

"Yes." Rude looked after Sub-General Karsk. "I hope Karsk finds what he's been looking for all these years."

"Solace? Yeah, I figure he will," Reno assured him. "Yer just odd, Rude. You'll beat a man to death with an umbrella, but you get soft on some sixty-year-old badass with a tragic past. I think that says a lot about you."

Rude simply shook his head. "If you want."

"You take all the fun out of poking fun at you," the redhead pouted.

"Don't worry," Yuffie said impishly, giving Reno a poke in the side. "I'll just practice on you, and you can learn by my example."

Reno pulled Yuffie to him and kissed her. "Just try it, Yuffie. 'Cause you know how it goes – you remember what ol' Reno does when the ground quakes, the flaming arrows fall from the sky, an' the foundations of Heaven shake – yeah, ol' Reno just looks that big storm in its eye and says 'Gimme your best shot. I can take it.'"

Yuffie shook her head wonderingly at him. "Shut up and kiss me again, you crazy asshole."

They kissed, lost to the world, while Rude looked up at the noontime sun, thinking that it might be better if it were setting but knowing that they'd make do with what they had. He checked his watch, adjusted his tie a bit, and said to nobody in particular, "That's all, folks."


End file.
